THE 


CONFIDENCE-MAN: 


HIS  MASQUERADE. 


BY 


HERMAN    MELVILLE, 

AUTHOR   OF    "PIAZZA    TALES,"    "  OMOO,"    "  TYPEE,"  'ETC.,    ETC. 


NEW   YORK: 

DIX,    EDWARDS   &   CO.,    321    BROADWAY. 

1857. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1857,  by 
HERMAN    MELVILLE, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  tho 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


MILLER  &  HOLMAN, 
Printers  and  Stereotypors,  N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


CH  APTEE    I. 

A  mute  goes  aboard  a  boat  on  the  Mississippi. 

CHAPTER    II. 

Showing  that  many  men  have  many  minds. 

CHAPTER    III. 

In  which  a  variety  of  characters  appear. 

CHAPTER    IV. 

Renewal  of  old  acquaintance. 

CHAPTER    V. 

The  man  with  the  weed  makes  it  an  even  question  whether  he  be  a  great  sage 
or  a  great  simpleton. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

At  the  outset  of  which  certain  passengers  prove  deaf  to  the  call  of  charity. 

CHAPTER    VII. 

A  gentleman  with  gold  sleeve-buttons. 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

A  charitable  lady. 

CHAPTER    IX. 

Two  business  men  transact  a  little  business. 

CHAPTER    X. 
In  the  cabin. 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XI. 

Only  a  page  or  so. 

CHAPTER    XII. 

The  story  of  the  unfortunate  man,  from  which  may  be  gathered  whether  or  no 
he  has  been  justly  BO  entitled. 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

The  man  with  the  traveling-cap  evinces  much  humanity,  and  in  a  way  which 
would  seem  to  show  him  to  be  one  of  the  most  logical  of  optimists. 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

Worth  the  consideration  of  those  to  whom  it  may  prove  worth  considering. 

CHAPTER    XV. 

An  old  miser,  upon  suitable  representations,  is  prevailed  upon  to  venture  an 
investment. 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

A  sick  man,  after  some  impatience,  is  induced  to  become  a  patient. 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

Towards  the  end  of  which  the  Herb-Doctor  proves  himself  a  forgiver  of  injuries. 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Inquest  into  the  true  character  of  the  Herb-Doctor. 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

A  soldier  of  fortune. 

CHAPTER    XX. 

Reappearance  of  one  who  may  be  remembered. 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

A  hard  case. 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

In  the  polite  spirit  of  the  Tusculan  disputations. 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

In  which  the  powerful  effect  of  natural  scenery  is  evinced  in  the  case  of  the 
Missourian,  who,  in  view  of  the  region  round  about  Cairo,  has  a  return  of 
his  chilly  fit. 


CONTENTS.  V 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

A  philanthropist  undertakes  to  convert  a  misanthrope,  but  does  not  get  beyond 
9      confuting  him. 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

The  Cosmopolitan  makes  an  acquaintance. 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 

Containing  the  metaphysics  of  Indian-hating,  according  to  the  views  of  one 
evidently  as  prepossessed  as  Eousseau  in  favor  of  savages. 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 

Some  account  of  a  man  of  questionable  morality,  but  who,  nevertheless,  would 
seem  entitled  to  the  esteem  of  that  eminent  English  moralist  who  said  he 
liked  a  good  hater. 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

Moot  points  touching  the  late  Colonel  John  Moredock. 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

The  boon  companions. 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

Opening  with  a  poetical  eulogy  of  the  Press,  and  continuing  with  talk  inspired 
by  the  same. 

CHAPTER    XXXI. 

A  metamorphosis  more  surprising  than  any  in  Ovid. 

CHAPTER    XXXII. 

Showing  that  the  age  of  music  and  magicians  is  not  yet  over. 

CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

Which  may  pass  for  whatever  it  may  prove  to  be  worth. 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

In  which  the  Cosmopolitan  tells  the  story  of  the  gentleman-madman. 

CHAPTER    XXXV. 

In  which  the  Cosmopolitan  strikingly  evinces  the  artlessness  of  his  nature. 

CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

In  which  the  Cosmopolitan  is  accosted  by  a  mystic,  whereupon  ensues  pretty 
much  such  talk  as  might  be  expected. 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

The  mystical  master  introduces  the  practical  disciple. 

CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

The  disciple  unbends,  and  consents  to  act  a  social  part. 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

The  hypothetical  friends. 

CHAPTER    XL. 

In  which  the  story  of  China  Aster  is,  at  second-hand,  told  by  one  who,  while  not 
disapproving  the  moral,  disclaims  the  spirit  of  the  style. 

CHAPTER    XLI. 

Ending  with  a  rupture  of  the  hypothesis. 

CHAPTER    XLII. 

Upon  the  heel  of  the  last  scene,  the  Cosmopolitan  enters  the  barber's  shop,  a 
benediction  on  his  lips. 

CHAPTER    X  L  1 1 1 . 

Very  charming. 

CHAPTER    XLIV. 

In  which  the  last  three  words  of  the  last  chapter  are  made  the  text  of  the  dis 
course,  which  will  be  sure  of  receiving  more  or  less  attention  from  those 
readers  who  do  not  skip  it. 

CHAPTER    XLV. 

The  Cosmopolitan  increases  in  seriousness. 


THE  CONFIDENCE-MAN: 

HIS   MASQUERADE, 


CHAPTER    I. 

A   MUTE    GOES   ABOARD   A    BOAT   OX   THE   MISSISSIPPI. 

AT  sunrise  on  a  first  of  April,  there  appeared,  sud 
denly  as  Manco  Capac  at  the  lake  Titicaca,  a  man  in 
cream-colors,  at  the  water-side  in  the  city  of  St.  Louis. 

His  cheek  was  fair,  his  chin  downy,  his  hair  flaxen, 
his  hat  a  white  fur  one,  with  a  long  fleecy  nap.  He 
had  neither  trunk,  valise,  carpet-bag,  nor  parcel.  No 
porter  followed  him.  He  was  unaccompanied  by 
friends.  From  the  shrugged  shoulders,  titters,  whis 
pers,  wonderings  of  the  crowd,  it  was  plain  that  he 
was,  in  the  extremes t  sense  of  the  word,  a  stranger. 

In  the  same  moment  with  his  advent,  he  stepped 
aboard  the  favorite  steamer  Fidele,  on  the  point  of 
starting  for  New  Orleans.  Stared  at,  but  unsaluted, 
with  the  air  of  one  neither  courting  nor  shunning 
regard,  but  evenly  pursuing  the  path  of  duty,  lead  it 
through  solitudes  or  cities,  he  held  on  his  way  along 


2  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

the  lower  deck  until  he  chanced  to  come  to  a  placard 
nigh  the  captain's  office,  offering  a  reward  for  the 
capture  of  a  mysterious  impostor,  supposed  to  have 
recently  arrived  from  the  East ;  quite  an  original 
genius  in  his  vocation,  as  would  appear,  though  where 
in  his  originality  consisted  was  not  clearly  given ;  but 
what  purported  to  be  a  careful  description  of  his  per 
son  followed. 

As  if  it  had  been  a  theatre-bill,  crowds  were  gathered 
about  the  announcement,  and  among  them  certain 
chevaliers,  whose  eyes,  it  was  plain,  were  on  the  capi 
tals,  or,  at  least,  earnestly  seeking  sight  of  them  from 
behind  intervening  coats ;  but  as  for  their  fingers,  they 
were  enveloped  in  some  myth;  though,  during  a  chance 
interval,  one  of  these  chevaliers  somewhat  showed  his 
hand  in  purchasing  from  another  chevalier,  ex-officio  a 
peddler  of  money-belts,  one  of  his  popular  safe-guards, 
while  another  peddler,  who  was  still  another  versatile 
chevalier,  hawked,  in  the  thick  of  the  throng,  the  lives 
of  Measan,  the  bandit  of  Ohio,  Murrel,  the  pirate  of 
the  Mississippi,  and  the  brothers  Harpe,  the  Thugs 
of  the  Green  River  country,  in  Kentucky — creatures, 
with  others  of  the^sort,  one  and  all  exterminated  at  the 
time,  and  for  the  most  part,  like  the  hunted  generations 
of  wolves  in  the  same  regions,  leaving  comparatively 
few  successors ;  which  would  seem  cause  for  unalloyed 
gratulation,  and  is  such  to  all  except  those  who  think 
that  in  new  countries,  where  the  wolves  are  killed  off, 
the  foxes  increase. 

Pausing  at  this  spot,  the  stranger  so  far  succeeded 


A    MUTE     GOES     ABOARD     A     BOAT,     ETC.        3 

in  threading  his  way,  as  at  last  to  plant  himself  just 
beside  the  placard,  when,  producing  a  small  slate  and 
tracing  some  words  upon  it,  he  held  it  up  before  him 
on  a  level  with  the  placard,  so  that  they  who  read  the 
one  might  read  the  other.  The  words  were  these : — 
"  Charity  thinketh  no  evil." 

As,  in  gaining  his  place,  some  little  perseverance,  not 
to  say  persistence,  of  a  mildly  inoffensive  sort,  had  been 
unavoidable,  it  was  not  with  the  best  relish  that  the 
crowd  regarded  his  apparent  intrusion ;  and  upon  a 
more  attentive  survey,  perceiving  no  badge  of  autho 
rity  about  him,  but  rather  something  quite  the  con 
trary — he  being  of  an  aspect  so  singularly  innocent ; 
an  aspect,  too,  which  they  took  to  be  somehow  inap 
propriate  to  the  time  and  place,  and  inclining  to  the 
notion  that  his  writing  was  of  much  the  same  sort :  in 
short,  taking  him  for  some  strange  kind  of  simpleton, 
harmless  enough,  would  he  keep  to  himself,  but  not 
wholly  unobnoxious  as  an  intruder  —  they  made  no 
scruple  to  jostle  him  aside ;  while  one,  less  kind  than 
the  rest,  or  more  of  a  wag,  by  an  unobserved  stroke, 
dexterously  flattened  down  his  fleecy  hat  upon  his 
head.  Without  readjusting  it,  the  stranger  quietly 
turned,  and  writing  anew  upon  the  slate,  again  held 

it  up : — 

"  Charity  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind." 

Illy  pleased  with  his  pertinacity,  as  they  thought  it, 
the  crowd  a  second  time  thrust  him  aside,  and  not 
without  epithets  and  some  buffets,  all  of  which  were 


4  THE     CONFIDENCE -MAN. 

unresented.  But,  as  if  at  last  despairing  of  so  difficult 
an  adventure,  wherein  one,  apparently  a  non-resistant, 
sought  to  impose  his  presence  upon  fighting  characters, 
the  stranger  now  moved  slowly  away,  yet  not  before 
altering  his  writing  to  this  : — 

"  Charity  endureth  all  things." 

Shield-like  bearing  his  slate  before  him,  amid  stares 
and  jeers  he  moved  slowly  up  and  down,  at  his  turning 
points  again  changing  his  inscription  to — 

"  Charity  believeth  all  things." 
and  then — 

"  Charity  never  faileth." 

The  word  charity,  as  originally  traced,  remained 
throughout  uneffaced,  not  unlike  the  left-hand  numeral 
of  a  printed  date,  otherwise  left  for  convenience  in 
blank. 

To  some  observers,  the  singularity,  if  not  lunacy,  of 
the  stranger  was  heightened  by  his  muteness,  and,  per 
haps  also,  by  the  contrast  to  his  proceedings  afforded  in 
the  actions — quite  in  the  wonted  and  sensible  order  of 
things  —  of 'the  barber  of  the  boat,  whose  quarters, 
under  a  smoldng-saloon,  and  over  against  a  bar-room, 
was  next  door  but  two  to  the  captain's  office.  As  if 
the  long,  wide,  covered  deck,  hereabouts  built  up  on 
both  sides  with  shop-like  windowed  spaces,  were  some 
Constantinople  arcade  or  bazaar,  where  more  than  one 
trade  is  plied,  this  river  barber,  aproned  and  slippered, 
but  rather  crusty-looking  for  the  moment,  it  may  be 
from  being  newly  out  of  bed,  was  throwing  open  his 


A    MUTE     GOES     ABOARD     A     BOAT,     ETC.         5 

premises  for  the  day,  and  suitably  arranging  the  exte 
rior.  With  business-like  dispatch,  having  rattled  down 
his  shutters,  and  at  a  palm-tree  angle  set  out  in  the 
iron  fixture  his  little  ornamental  pole,  and  this  without 
overmuch  tenderness  for  the  elbows  and  toes  of  the 
crowd,  he  concluded  his  operations  by  bidding  people 
stand  still  more  aside,  when,  jumping  on  a  stool,  he 
hung  over  his  door,  on  the  customary  nail,  a  gaudy  sort 
of  illuminated  pasteboard  sign,  skillfully  executed  by 
himself,  gilt  with  the  likeness  of  a  razor  elbowed  in 
readiness  to  shave,  and  also,  for  the  public  benefit,  with 
two  words  not  unfrequently  seen  ashore  gracing  other 
shops  besides  barbers' : — 

"  No  TRUST." 

An  inscription  which,  though  in  a  sense  not  less  in 
trusive  than  the  contrasted  ones  of  the  stranger,  did 
not,  as  it  seemed,  provoke  any  corresponding  derision 
or  surprise,  much  less  indignation ;  and  still  less,  to  all 
appearances,  did  it  gain  for  the  inscriber  the  repute  of 
being  a  simpleton. 

Meanwhile,  he  with  the  slate  continued  moving 
slowly  up  and  down,  not  without  causing  some  stares 
to  change  into  jeers,  and  some  jeers  into  pushes,  and 
some  pushes  into  punches  ;  when  suddenly,  in  one  of 
his  turns,  he  was  hailed  from  behind  by  two  porters 
carrying  a  large  trunk  ;  but  as  the  summons,  though 
loud,  was  without  effect,  they  accidentally  or  otherwise 
swung  their  burden  against  him,  nearly  overthrowing 
him  ;  when,  by  a  quick  start,  a  peculiar  inarticulate 
moan,  and  a  pathetic  telegraphing  of  his  fingers,  he 


6  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

involuntarily  betrayed  that  he  was  not  alone  dumb, 
but  also  deaf. 

Presently,  as  if  not  wholly  unaffected  by  his  recep 
tion  thus  far,  he  went  forward,  seating  himself  in  a 
retired  spot  on  the  forecastle,  nigh  the  foot  of  a  ladder 
there  leading  to  a  deck  above,  up  and  down  which  lad 
der  some  of  the  boatmen,  in  discharge  of  their  duties, 
were  occasionally  going. 

From  his  betaking  himself  to  this  humble  quarter, 
it  was  evident  that,  as  a  deck-passenger,  the  stranger, 
simple  though  he  seemed,  was  not  entirely  ignorant  of 
his  place,  though  his  taking  a  deck-passage  might  have 
been  partly  for  convenience  ;  as,  from  his  having  no 
luggage,  it  was  probable  that  his  destination  was  one 
of  the  small  wayside  landings  within  a  few  hours'  sail. 
But,  though  he  might  not  have  a  long  way  to  go,  yet  he 
seemed  already  to  have  come  from  a  very  long  distance. 

Though  neither  soiled  nor  slovenly,  his  cream-col 
ored  suit  had  a  tossed  look,  almost  linty,  as  if,  traveling 
night  and  day  from  some  far  country  beyond  the  prai 
ries,  he  had  long  been  without  the  solace  of  a  bed. 
His  aspect  was  at  once  gentle  and  jaded,  and,  from  the 
moment  of  seating  himself,  increasing  in  tired  abstrac 
tion  and  dreaminess.  Gradually  overtaken  by  slum 
ber,  his  flaxen  head  drooped,  his  whole  lamb-like  figure 
relaxed,  and,  half  reclining  against  the  ladder's  foot,  lay 
motionless,  as  some  sugar-snow  in  March,  which,  softly 
stealing  down  over  night,  with  its  white  placidity  star 
tles  the  brown  farmer  peering  out  from  his  threshold  at 
daybreak. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SHOWING  THAT  MANY  MEN  HAVE  MANY  MINDS. 

«  Odd  fish !" 

"  Poor  fellow !" 

"  Who  can  he  be  ?" 

"  Casper  Hauser." 

"  Bless  my  soul !" 

';  Uncommon  countenance." 

"  Green  prophet  from  Utah." 

"  Humbug !" 

"  Singular  innocence." 

"  Means  something." 

"  Spirit-rapper." 

"  Moon-calf." 

"  Piteous." 

"  Trying  to  enlist  interest.'* 

"  Beware  of  him." 

"  Fast  asleep  here,  and,  doubtless,  pick-pockets  on 
board." 

"  Kind  of  daylight  Endymion." 

"  Escaped  convict,  worn  out  with  dodging." 

"  Jacob  dreaming  at  Luz." 

Such  the  epitaphic  comments,  conflictingly  spoken  or 
thought,  of  a  miscellaneous  company,  who,  assembled 


8  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

on  the  overlooking,  cross-wise  balcony  at  the  forward 
end  of  the  upper  deck  near  by,  had  not  witnessed  pre 
ceding  occurrences. 

Meantime,  like  some  enchanted  man  in  his  grave, 
happily  oblivious  of  all  gossip,  whether  chiseled  or 
chatted,  the  deaf  and  dumb  stranger  still  tranquilly 
slept,  while  now  the  boat  started  on  her  voyage. 

The  great  ship-canal  of  Ving-King-Ching,  in  the 
Flowery  Kingdom,  seems  the  Mississippi  in  parts, 
where,  amply  flowing  between  low,  vine-tangled 
banks,  flat  as  tow-paths,  it  bears  the  huge  toppling 
steamers,  bedizened  and  lacquered  within  like  impe 
rial  junks. 

Pierced  along  its  great  white  bulk  with  two  tiers  of 
small  embrasure-like  windows,  well  above  the  water- 
line,  the  Fidele,  though,  might  at  distance  have  been 
taken  by  strangers  for  some  whitewashed  fort  on  a 
floating  isle. 

Merchants  on  'change  seem  the  passengers  that  buzz 
on  her  decks,  wrhile,  from  quarters  unseen,  comes  a  mur 
mur  as  of  bees  in  the  comb.  Fine  promenades,  domed 
saloons,  long  galleries,  sunny  balconies,  confidential 
passages,  bridal  chambers,  state-rooms  plenty  as  pigeon 
holes,  and  out-of-the-way  retreats  like  secret  drawers 
in  an  escritoire,  present  like  facilities  for  publicity  or 
privacy.  Auctioneer  or  coiner,  with  equal  ease,  might 
somewhere  here  drive  his  trade. 

Though  her  voyage  of  twelve  hundred  miles  extends 
from  apple  to  orange,  from  clime  to  clime,  yet,  like 
any  small  ferry-boat,  to  right  and  left,  at  every  landing, 


MANY     MEN     HAVE     MANY     MINDS.  9 

the  huge  Fidele  still  receives  additional  passengers  in 
exchange  for  those  that  disembark ;  so  that,  though 
always  full  of  strangers,  she  continually,  in  some  de 
gree,  adds  to,  or  replaces  them  with  strangers  still 
more  strange ;  like  Rio  Janeiro  fountain,  fed  from  the 
Cocovarde  mountains,  which  is  ever  overflowing  with 
strange  waters,  but  never  with  the  same  strange  parti 
cles  in  every  part. 

Though  hitherto,  as  has  been  seen,  the  man  in 
cream-colors  had  by  no  means  passed  unobserved,  yet 
by  stealing  into  retirement,  and  there  going  asleep 
and  continuing  so,  he  seemed  to  have  courted  oblivion, 
a  boon  not  often  withheld  from  so  humble  an  applicant 
as  he.  Those  staring  crowds  on  the  shore  were  now 
left  far  behind,  seen  dimly  clustering  like  swallows  on 
eaves ;  while  the  passengers'  attention  was  soon  drawn 
away  to  the  rapidly  shooting  high  bluffs  and  shot-towers 
on  the  Missouri  shore,  or  the  bluff-looking  Missourians 
and  towering  Kentuckians  among  the  throngs  on  the 
decks. 

By-and-by — two  or  three  random  stoppages  having 
been  made,  and  the  last  transient  memory  of  the  slum- 
berer  vanished,  and  he  himself,  not  unlikely,  waked  up 
and  landed  ere  now — the  crowd,  as  is  usual,  began  in 
all  parts  to  break  up  from  a  concourse  into  various 
clusters  or  squads,  which  in  some  cases  disintegrated 
again  into  quartettes,  trios,  and  couples,  or  even  soli 
taires  ;  involuntarily  submitting  to  that  natural  law 
which  ordains  dissolution  equally  to  the  mass,  as  in 

time  to  the  member. 
1* 


10  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

As  among  Chaucer's  Canterbury  pilgrims,  or  those 
oriental  ones  crossing  the  Red  Sea  towards  Mecca  in 
the  festival  month,  there  was  no  lack  of  variety.  Na 
tives  of  all  sorts,  and  foreigners ;  men  of  business  and 
men  of  pleasure ;  parlor  men  and  backwoodsmen ; 
farm-hunters  and  fame-hunters  ;  heiress-hunters,  gold- 
hunters,  buffalo-hunters,  bee-hunters,  happiness-hunt 
ers,  truth-hunters,  and  still  keener  hunters  after  all 
these  hunters.  Fine  ladies  in  slippers,  and  moccasined 
squaws ;  Northern  speculators  and  Eastern  philoso 
phers ;  English,  Irish,  German,  Scotch,  Danes;  Santa 
Fe  traders  in  striped  blankets,  and  Broadway  bucks  in 
cravats  of  cloth  of  gold ;  fine-looking  Kentucky  boat 
men,  and  Japanese-looking  Mississippi  cotton-planters ; 
Quakers  in  full  drab,  and  United  States  soldiers  in  full 
regimentals ;  slaves,  black,  mulatto,  quadroon  ;  modish 
young  Spanish  Creoles,  and  old-fashioned  French  Jews ; 
Mormons  and  Papists ;  Dives  and  Lazarus;  jesters  and 
mourners,  teetotalers  and  convivialists,  deacons  and 
blacklegs ;  hard-shell  Baptists  and  clay-eaters ;  grin 
ning  negroes,  and  Sioux  chiefs  solemn  as  high-priests. 
In  short,  a  piebald  parliament,  an  Anacharsis  Cloots 
congress  of  all  kinds  of  that  multiform  pilgrim  species, 
man. 

As  pine,  beech,  birch,  ash,  hackmatack,  hemlock, 
spruce,  bass-wood,  maple,  interweave  their  foliage  in 
the  natural  wood,  so  these  varieties  of  mortals  blended 
their  varieties  of  visage  and  garb.  A  Tartar-like  pic- 
turesqueness ;  a  sort  of  pagan  abandonment  and  assur 
ance.  Here  reigned  the  dashing  and  all-fusing  spirit 


MANY     MEN     HAVE     MANY     MINDS.  11 

of  the  West,  whose  type  in  the  Mississippi  itself,  which, 
uniting  the  streams  of  the  most  distant  and  opposite 
zones,  pours  them  along,  helter-skelter,  in  one  cosmo 
politan  and  confident  tide. 


CHAPTER    III. 

JN   WHICH   A  VARIETY   OF   CHARACTERS   APPEAR. 

IN  the  forward  part  of  the  boat,  not  the  least  attract 
ive  object,  for  a  time,  was  a  grotesque  negro  cripple,  in 
tow-cloth  attire  and  an  old  coal-sifter  of  a  tamborine 
in  his  hand,  who,  owing  to  something  wrong  about  his 
legs,  was,  in  effect,  cut  down  to  the  stature  of  a  New 
foundland  dog ;  his  knotted  black  fleece  and  good- 
natured,  honest  black  face  rubbing  against  the  upper 
part  of  people's  thighs  as  he  made  shift  to  shuffle  about, 
making  music,  such  as  it  was,  and  raising  a  smile  even 
from  the  gravest.  It  was  curious  to  see  him,  out  of  his 
very  deformity,  indigence,  and  houselessness,  so  cheerily 
endured,  raising  mirth  in  some  of  that  crowd,  whose 
own  purses,  hearths,  hearts,  all  their  possessions,  sound 
limbs  included,  could  not  make  gay. 

"  What  is  your  name,  old  boy?"  said  a  purple-faced 
drover,  putting  his  large  purple  hand  on  the  cripple's 
bushy  wool,  as  if  it  were  the  curled  forehead  of  a  black 
steer. 

"  Der  Black  Guinea  dey  calls  me,  sar." 

"  And  who  is  your  master,  Guinea  ?" 

"  Oh  sar,  I  am  der  dog  widout  massa." 


A     VARIETY    OF     CHARACTERS     APPEAR.      13 

"  A  free  dog,  eh  ?  Well,  on  your  account,  I'm  sorry 
for  that,  Guinea.  Dogs  without  masters  fare  hard." 

"  So  dey  do,  sar ;  so  dey  do.  But  you  see,  sar,  dese 
here  legs?  What  ge'mman  want  to  own  dese  here 
legs?" 

"But  where  do  you  live ?" 

"All  'long  shore,  sar;  dough  -  now  I'se  going  to 
see  brodder  at  der  landing ;  but  chiefly  I  libs  in  der 
city." 

"  St.  Louis,  ah  ?  Where  do  you  sleep  there  of 
nights  ?" 

"  On  der  floor  of  der  good  baker's  oven,  sar." 

"In  an  oven  ?  whose,  pray  ?  What  baker,  I  should 
like  to  know,  bakes  such  black  bread  in  his  oven, 
alongside  of  his  nice  white  rolls,  too.  Who  is  that 
too  charitable  baker,  pray  ?" 

"  Dar  he  be,"  with  a  broad  grin  lifting  his  tambourine 
high  over  his  head. 

"  The  sun  is  the  baker,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes  sar,  in  der  city  dat  good  baker  warms  der  stones 
for  dis  ole  darkie  when  he  sleeps  out  on  der  pabements 
o'  nights." 

"  But  that  must  be  in  the  summer  only,  old  boy. 
How  about  winter,  when  the  cold  Cossacks  come 
clattering  and  jingling  ?  How  about  winter,  old 
boy?" 

"  Den  dis  poor  old  darkie  shakes  werry  bad,  I  tell 
you,  sar.  Oh  sar,  oh !  don't  speak  ob  der  winter,"  he 
added,  with  a  reminiscent  shiver,  shuffling  off  into  the 
thickest  of  the  crowd,  like  a  half-frozen  black  sheep 


14  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

nudging  itself  a  cozy  berth  in  the  heart  of  the  white 
flock. 

Thus  far  not  very  many  pennies  had  been  given  him, 
and,  used  at  last  to  his  strange  looks,  the  less  polite  pas 
sengers  of  those  in  that  part  of  the  boat  began  to  get 
their  fill  of  him  as  a  curious  object ;  when  suddenly  the 
negro  more  than  revived  their  first  interest  by  an  expe 
dient  which,  whether  by  chance  or  design,  was  a  singu 
lar  temptation  at  once  to  diversion  and  charity,  though, 
even  more  than  his  crippled  limbs,  it  put  him  on  a 
canine  footing.  In  short,  as  in  appearance  he  seemed 
a  dog,  so  now,  in  a  merry  way,  like  a  dog  he  began  to 
be  treated.  Still  shuffling  among  the  crowd,  now  and 
then  he  would  pause,  throwing  back  his  head  and 
opening  his  mouth  like  an  elephant  for  tossed  apples 
at  a  menagerie;  when,  making  a  space  before  him,  peo 
ple  would  have  a  bout  at  a  strange  sort  of  pitch-penny 
game,  the  cripple's  mouth  being  at  once  target  and 
purse,  and  he  hailing  each  expertly-caught  copper  with 
a  cracked  bravura  from  his  tambourine.  To  be  the  sub 
ject  of  alms-giving  is  trying,  and  to  feel  in  duty  bound 
to  appear  cheerfully  grateful  under  the  trial,  must  be 
still  more  so  ;  but  whatever  his  secret  emotions,  he 
swallowed  them,  while  still  retaining  each  copper  this 
side  the  oesophagus.  And  nearly  always  he  grinned, 
and  only  once  or  twice  did  he  wince,  which  was  when 
certain  coins,  tossed  by  more  playful  almoners,  came 
inconveniently  nigh  to  his  teeth,  an  accident  whose 
unwelcomeness  was  not  unedged  by  the  circumstance 
that  the  pennies  thus  thrown  proved  buttons. 


A     VARIETY     OF     CHARACTERS     APPEAR.     15 

While  this  game  of  charity  was  yet  at  its  height,  a 
limping,  gimlet-eyed,  sour-faced  person  —  it  may  be 
some  discharged  custom-house  officer,  who,  suddenly 
stripped  of  convenient  means  of  support,  had  con 
cluded  to  be  avenged  on  government  and  humanity 
by  making  himself  miserable  for  life,  either  by  hating 
or  suspecting  everything  and  everybody — this  shallow 
unfortunate,  after  sundry  sorry  observations  of  the  ne 
gro,  began  to  croak  out  something  about  his  deformity 
being  a  sham,  got  up  for  financial  purposes,  which  im 
mediately  threw  a  damp  upon  the  frolic  benignities  of 
the  pitch-penny  players. 

But  that  these  suspicions  came  from  one  who  him 
self  on  a  wooden  leg  went  halt,  this  did  not  appear  to 
strike  anybody  present.  That  cripples,  above  all  men 
should  be  companionable,  or,  at  least,  refrain  from  pick 
ing  a  fellow-limper  to  pieces,  in  short,  should  have  a 
little  sympathy  in  common  misfortune,  seemed  not  to 
occur  to  the  company. 

Meantime,  the  negro's  countenance,  before  marked 
with  even  more  than  patient  good-nature,  drooped 
into  a  heavy-hearted  expression,  full  of  the  most 
painful  distress.  So  far  abased  beneath  its  proper 
physical  level,  that  Newfoundland-dog  face  turned  in 
passively  hopeless  appeal,  as  if  instinct  told  it  that  the 
right  or  the  wrong  might  not  have  overmuch  to  do 
with  whatever  wayward  mood  superior  intelligences 
might  yield  to. 

But  instinct,  though  knowing,  is  yet  a  teacher  set 
below  reason,  which  itself  says,  in  the  grave  words  of 


16  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

Lysander  in  the  comedy,  after  Puck  has  made  a  sage  of 
him  with  his  spell : — 

"  The  will  of  man  is  by  his  reason  swayed." 

So  that,  suddenly  change  as  people  may,  in  their  dis 
positions,  it  is  not  always  waywardness,  but  improved 
judgment,  which,  as  in  Lysander's  case,  or  the  present, 
operates  with  them. 

Yes,  they  began  to  scrutinize  the  negro  curiously 
enough ;  when,  emboldened  by  this  evidence  of  the 
efficacy  of  his  words,  the  wooden-legged  man  hobbled 
up  to  the  negro,  and,  with  the  air  of  a  beadle,  would, 
to  prove  his  alleged  imposture  on  the  spot,  have  strip 
ped  him  and  then  driven  him  away,  but  was  prevented 
by  the  crowd's  clamor,  now  taking  part  with  the  poor 
fellow,  against  one  who  had  just  before  turned  nearly 
all  minds  the  other  way.  So  he  with  the  wooden  leg 
was  forced  to  retire ;  when  the  rest,  finding  themselves 
left  sole  judges  in  the  case,  could  not  resist  the  oppor 
tunity  of  acting  the  part :  not  because  it  is  a  human 
weakness  to  take  pleasure  in  sitting  in  judgment  upon 
one  in  a  box,  as  surely  this  unfortunate  negro  now 
was,  but  that  it  strangely  sharpens  human  percep 
tions,  when,  instead  of  standing  by  and  having  their 
fellow-feelings  touched  by  the  sight  of  an  alleged  cul 
prit  severely  handled  by  some  one  justiciary,  a  crowd 
suddenly  come  to  be  all  justiciaries  in  the  same  case 
themselves ;  as  in  Arkansas  once,  a  man  proved  guilty, 
by  law,  of  murder,  but  whose  condemnation  was  deemed 


A     VARIETY     OP     CHARACTERS     APPEAR.      17 

unjust  by  the  people,  so  that  they  rescued  him  to  try 
him  themselves  ;  whereupon,  they,  as  it  turned  out, 
found  him  even  guiltier  than  the  court  had  done,  and 
forthwith  proceeded  to  execution ;  so  that  the  gallows 
presented  the  truly  warning  spectacle  of  a  man  hanged 
by  his  friends. 

But  not  to  such  extremities,  or  anything  like  them, 
did  the  present  crowd  come  ;  they,  for  the  time,  being 
content  with  putting  the  negro  fairly  and  discreetly  to 
the  question ;  among  other  things,  asking  him,  had  he 
any  documentary  proof,  any  plain  paper  about  him, 
attesting  that  his  case  was  not  a  spurious  one. 

"  No,  no",  dis  poor  ole  darkie  haint  none  o'  dem  walo- 
able  papers,"  he  wailed. 

"  But  is  there  not  some  one  who  can  speak  a  good 
word  for  you  ?"  here  said  a  person  newly  arrived  from 
another  part  of  the  boat,  a  young  Episcopal  clergyman, 
in  a  long,  straight-bodied  black  coat ;  small  in  stature, 
but  manly  ;  with  a  clear  face  and  blue  eye  ;  innocence, 
tenderness,  and  good  sense  triumvirate  in  his  air. 

"Oh  yes,  oh  yes,  ge'mmen,"-he  eagerly  answered, 
as  if  his  memory,  before  suddenly  frozen  up  by  cold 
charity,  as  suddenly  thawed  back  into  fluidity  at  the 
first  kindly  word.  "  Oh  yes,  oh  yes,  dar  is  aboard  here 
a  werry  nice,  good  ge'mman  wid  a  weed,  and  a  ge'mman 
in  a  gray  coat  and  white  tie,  what  knows  all  about  me  ; 
and  a  ge'mman  wid  a  big  book,  too;  and  a  yarb-doctor; 
and  a  ge'mman  in  a  yaller  west ;  and  a  ge'mman  wid  a 
brass  plate ;  and  a  ge'mman  in  a  wiolet  robe ;  and  a 
ge'mman  as  is  a  sodjer;  and  ever  so  many  good,  kind, 


18  THE     CONFIDENCE -MAN. 

honest  ge'mmen  more  aboard  what  knows  me  and  will 
speak  for  me,  God  bress  'em  ;  yes,  and  what  knows  me 
as  well  as  dis  poor  old  darkle  knows  hisself,  God  bress 
him !  Oh,  find  'em,  find  'em,"  he  earnestly  added,  "and 
let  'em  come  quick,  and  show  you  all,  ge'mmen,  dat  dis 
poor  ole  darkie  is  werry  well  wordy  of  all  you  kind 
ge'mmen's  kind  confidence." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  find  all  these  people  in  this 
great  crowd  ?"  was  the  question  of  a  bystander,  um 
brella  in  hand ;  a  middle-aged  person,  a  country  mer 
chant  apparently,  whose  natural  good-feeling  had  been 
made  at  least  cautious  by  the  unnatural  ill-feeling  of 
the  discharged  custom-house  officer. 

"  Where  are  we  to  find  them  ?"  half-rebukefully 
echoed  the  young  Episcopal  clergymen.  "  I  will  go 
find  one  to  begin  with,"  he  quickly  added,  and,  with 
kind  haste  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  away  he 
went. 

"  Wild  goose  chase  !"  croaked  he  with  the  wooden 
leg,  now  again  drawing. nigh.  "Don't  believe  there's 
a  soul  of  them  aboard.  Did  ever  beggar  have  such 
heaps  of  fine  friends  ?  He  can  walk  fast  enough  when 
he  tries,  a  good  deal  faster  than  I ;  but  he  can  lie  yet 
faster.  He's  some  white  operator,  betwisted  and 
painted  up  for  a  decoy.  He  and  his  friends  are  all 
humbugs." 

"  Have  you  no  chanty,  friend  ?"  here  in  self-subdued 
tones,  singularly  contrasted  with  his  unsubdued  person, 
said  a  Methodist  minister,  advancing  ;  a  tall,  muscular, 
martial-looking  man,  a  Tennessean  by  birth,  who  in  the 


A   VARIETY     OF      CHARACTERS     APPEAR.      19 

Mexican  war  had  been  volunteer  chaplain  to  a  volunteer 
rifle-regiment. 

"  Charity  is  one  thing,  and  truth  is  another,"  rejoined 
he  with  the  wooden  leg :  "  he's  a  rascal,  I  say." 

"  But  why  not,  friend,  put  as  charitable  a  construc 
tion  as  one  can  upon  the  poor  fellow?"  said  the  soldier 
like  Methodist,  with  increased  difficulty  maintaining  a 
pacific  demeanor  towards  one  whose  own  asperity 
seemed  so  little  to  entitle  him  to  it :  "he  looks  hon 
est,  don't  he  ?" 

"  Looks  are  one  thing,  and  facts  are  another,"  snap 
ped  out  the  other  perversely;  "and  as  to  your  construc 
tions,  what  construction  can  you  put  upon  a  rascal,  but 
that  a  rascal  he  is  ?" 

"  Be  not  such  a  Canada  thistle,"  urged  the  Methodist, 
with  something  less  of  patience  than  before.  "  Charity, 
man,  chanty." 

"  To  where  it  belongs  with  your  charity !  to  heaven 
with  it!"  again  snapped  out  the  other,  diabolically; 
"  here  on  earth,  true  charity  dotes,  and  false  charity 
plots.  Who  betrays  a  fool  with  a  kiss,  the  charitable 
fool  has  the  charity  to  believe  is  in  love  with  him, 
and  the  charitable  knave  on  the  stand  gives  charitable 
testimony  for  his  comrade  in  the  box." 

"  Surely,  friend,"  returned  the  noble  Methodist,  with 
much  ado  restraining  his  still  waxing  indignation  — 
"  surely,  to  say  the  least,  you  forget  yourself.  Apply 
it  home,"  he  continued,  with  exterior  calmness  tremu 
lous  with  inkept  emotion.  "  Suppose,  now,  I  should 
exercise  no  chanty  in  judging  your  own  character  by 


20  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

the  words  which  have  fallen  from  you  ;  what  sort  of 
vile,  pitiless  man  do  you  think  I  would  take  you  for?" 

"  No  doubt" — with  a  grin — "  some  such  pitiless  man 
as  has  lost  his  piety  in  much  the  same  way  that  the 
jockey  loses  his  honesty." 

"  And  how  is  that,  friend  ?"  still  conscientiously 
holding  back  the  old  Adam  in  him,  as  if  it  were  a 
mastiff  he  had  by  the  neck. 

"Never  you  mind  how  it  is" — with  a  sneer;  "but 
all  horses  aint  virtuous,  no  more  than  all  men  kind  ; 
and  .come  close  to,  and  much  dealt  with,  some  things 
are  catching.  When  you  find  me  a  virtuous  jockey,  I 
will  find  you  a  benevolent  wise  man." 

"  Some  insinuation  there." 

"  More  fool  you  that  are  puzzled  by  it." 

"  Reprobate !"  cried  the  other,  his  indignation  now 
at  last  almost  boiling  over ;  "  godless  reprobate  !  if 
charity  did  not  restrain  me,  I  could  call  you  by  names 
you  deserve." 

"  Could  you,  indeed  ?"  with  an  insolent  sneer. 

"  Yea,  and  teach  you  charity  on  the  spot,"  cried  the 
goaded  Methodist,  suddenly  catching  this  exasperating 
opponent  by  his  shabby  coat-collar,  and  shaking  him 
till  his  timber-toe  clattered  on  the  deck  like  a  nine-pin. 
"  You  took  me  for  a  non-combatant  did  you? — thought, 
seedy  coward  that  you  are,  that  you  could  abuse  a 
Christian  with  impunity.  You  find  your  mistake" — 
with  another  hearty  shake. 

"  Well  said  and  better  done,  church  militant !"  cried 
a  voice. 


A    VARIETY    OF    CHARACTERS    APPEAR.         21 

"  The  white  cravat  against  the  world  !"  cried  an 
other. 

*'  Bravo,  bravo  !"  chorused  many  voices,  with  like 
enthusiasm  taking  sides  with  the  resolute  champion. 

"  You  fools  !"  cried  he  with  the  wooden  leg,  writh 
ing  himself  loose  and  inflamedly  turning  upon  the 
throng;  "you  flock  of  fools,  under  this  captain  of  fools, 
in  this  ship  of  fools  !" 

With  which  exclamations,  followed  by  idle  threats 
against  his  admonisher,  this  condign  victim  to  justice 
hobbled  away,  as  disdaining  to  hold  further  argument 
with  such  a  rabble.  But  his  scorn  was  more  than 
repaid  by  the  hisses  that  chased  him,  in  which  the 
brave  Methodist,  satisfied  with  the  rebuke  already 
administered,  was,  to  omit  still  better  reasons,  too 
magnanimous  to  join.  All  he  said  was,  pointing  to 
wards  the  departing  recusant,  "  There  he  shambles  off 
on  his  one  lone  leg,  emblematic  of  his  one-sided  view 
of  humanity." 

"  But  trust  your  painted  decoy,"  retorted  the  other 
from  a  distance,  pointing  back  to  the  black  cripple, 
"  and  I  have  my  revenge." 

"  But  we  aint  agoing  to  trust  him  !"  shouted  back  a 
voice. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  he  jeered  back.  "  Look 
you,"  he  added,  coming  to  a  dead  halt  where  he  was ; 
"  look  you,  I  have  been  called  a  Canada  thistle.  Very 
good.  And  a  seedy  one :  still  better.  And  the  seedy 
Canada  thistle  has  been  pretty  well  shaken  among  ye  • 
best  of  all.  Dare  say  some  seed  has  been  shaken  out ; 


22  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

and  won't  it  spring  though  ?  And  when  it  does  spring, 
do  you  cut  down  the  young  thistles,  and  won't  they 
spring  the  more  ?  It's  encouraging  and  coaxing  'em. 
Now,  when  with  my  thistles  your  farms  shall  be  well 
stocked,  why  then — you  may  abandon  'em!" 

"What  does  all  that  mean,  now?"  asked  the  country 
merchant,  staring. 

"Nothing;  the  foiled  wolf's  parting  howl,"  said  the 
Methodist*  "  Spleen,  much  spleen,  which  is  the  rick 
ety  child  of  his  evil  heart  of  unbelief:  it  has  made  him 
mad.  I  suspect  him  for  one  naturally  reprobate.  Oh, 
friends,"  raising  his  arms  as  in  the  pulpit,  "  oh  beloved, 
how  are  we  admonished  by  the  melancholy  spectacle  of 
this  raver.  Let  us  profit  by  the  lesson ;  and  is  it  not 
this :  that  if,  next  to  mistrusting  Providence,  there  be 
aught  that  man  should  pray  against,  it  is  against  mis 
trusting  his  fellow-man.  I  have  been  in  mad-houses 
full  of  tragic  mopers.  and  seen  there  the  end  of  suspi 
cion  :  the  cynic,  in  the  moody  madness  muttering  in 
the  corner ;  for  years  a  barren  fixture  there  ;  head  lop 
ped  over,  gnawing  his  own  lip,  vulture  of  himself; 
while,  by  fits  and  starts,  from  the  corner  opposite  came 
the  grimace  of  the  idiot  at  him." 

"  What  an  example,"  whispered  one. 

"  Might  deter  Timon,"  was  the  response. 

"  Oh,  oh,  good  ge'mmen,  have  you  no  confidence  in 
dis  poor  ole  darkle?"  now  wailed  the  returning  negro, 
who,  during  the  late  scene,  had  stumped  apart  in 
alarm. 

"  Confidence  in  you  ?"  echoed  he  who  had  whispered, 


A    VARIETY    OF    CHARACTERS    APPEAR.         23 

with  abruptly  changed  air  turning  short  round ;  "  that 
remains  to  be  seen." 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Ebony,"  in  similarly  changed 
tones  said  he  who  had  responded  to  the  whisperer, 
"  yonder  churl,"  pointing  toward  the  wooden  leg  in 
the  distance,  "  is,  no  doubt,  a  churlish  fellow  enough, 
and  I  would  not  wish  to  be  like  him ;  but  that  is  no 
reason  why  you  may  not  be  some  sort  of  black  Jeremy 
Diddler." 

"  No  confidence  in  dis  poor  ole  darkie,  den  ?" 

"  Before  giving  you  our  confidence,"  said  a  third, 
"  we  will  wait  the  report  of  the  kind  gentleman, who 
went  in  search  of  one  of  your  friends  who  was  to  speak 
for  you." 

"  Very  likely,  in  that  case,"  said  a  fourth,  "  we  shall 
wait  here  till  Christmas.  Shouldn't  wonder,  did  we  not 
see  that  kind  gentleman  again.  After  seeking  awhile  in 
vain,  he  will  conclude  he  has  been  made  a  fool  of,  and 
so  not  return  to  us  for  pure  shame.  Fact  is,  I  begin  to 
feel  a  little  qualmish  about  the  darkie  myself.  Some 
thing  queer  about  this  darkie,  depend  upon  it." 

Once  more  the  negro  wailed,  and  turning  in  despair 
from  the  last  speaker,  imploringly  caught  the  Methodist 
by  the  skirt  of  his  coat.  But  a  change  had  come  over 
that  before  impassioned  intercessor.  With  an  irreso 
lute  and  troubled  air,  he  mutely  eyed  the  suppliant ; 
against  whom,  somehow,  by  what  seemed  instinctive 
influences,  the  distrusts  first  set  on  foot  were  now  gen 
erally  reviving,  and,  if  anything,  with  added  severity. 

"  No  confidence  in  dis  poor  ole  darkie,"  yet  again 


24  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

wailed  the  negro,  letting  go  the  coat-skirts  and  turning 
appealingly  all  round  him. 

"  Yes,  my  poor  fellow,  I  have  confidence  in  you," 
now  exclaimed  the  country  merchant  before  named, 
whom  the  negro's  appeal,  coming  so  piteously  on  the 
heel  of  pitilessness,  seemed  at  last  humanely  to  have 
decided  in  his  favor.  "  And  here,  here  is  some  proof 
of  my  trust,"  with  which,  tucking  his  umbrella  under 
his  arm,  and  diving  down  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  he 
fished  forth  a  purse,  and,  accidentally,  along  with  it, 
his  business  card,  which,  unobserved,  dropped  to  the 
deck.  "  Here,  here,  my  poor  fellow,"  he  continued, 
extending  a  half  dollar. 

Not  more  grateful  for  the  coin  than  the  kindness,  the 
cripple's  face  glowed  like  a  polished  copper  saucepan, 
and  shuffling  a  pace  nigher,  with  one  upstretched  hand 
he  received  the  alms,  while,  as  unconsciously,  his  one 
advanced  leather  stump  covered  the  card. 

Done  in  despite  of  the  general  sentiment,  the  good 
deed  of  the  merchant  was  not,  perhaps,  without  its 
unwelcome  return  from  the  crowd,  since  that  good  deed 
seemed  somehow  to  convey  to  them  a  sort  of  reproach. 
Still  again,  and  more  pertinaciously  than  ever,  the  cry 
arose  against  the  negro,  and  still  again  he  wailed  forth 
his  lament  and  appeal ;  among  other  things,  repeating 
that  the  friends,  of  whom  already  he  had  partially  run 
off  the  list,  would  freely  speak  for  him,  would  anybody 
go  find  them. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  find  'em  yourself?"  demanded  a 
gruff  boatman. 


A    VARIETY    OF    CHARACTERS    APPEAR.         25 

"  How  can  I  go  find  'em  myself?  Dis  poor  ole 
game-legged  darkie's  friends  must  come  to  him.  Oh, 
whar,  whar  is  dat  good  friend  of  dis  darkie's,  dat  good 
man  wid  de  weed?" 

At  this  point,  a  steward  ringing  a  bell  came  along, 
summoning  all  persons  who  had  not  got  their  tickets  to 
step  to  the  captain's  office  ;  an  announcement  which 
speedily  thinned  the  throng  about  the  black  cripple, 
who  himself  soon  forlornly  stumped  out  of  sight, 
probably  on  much  the  same  errand  as  the  rest. 
2 


CHAPTER   IV. 

RENEWAL   OF    OLD    ACQUAINTANCE. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Roberts?" 

"Eh?" 

"  Don't  you  know  me?" 

"No,  certainly." 

The  crowd  about  the  captain's  office,  having  in  good 
time  melted  away,  the  above  encounter  took  place  in 
one  of  the  side  balconies  astern,  between  a  man  in 
mourning  clean  and  respectable,  but  none  of  the  glossiest, 
a  long  weed  on  his  hat,  and  the  country-merchant  be 
fore-mentioned,  whom,  with  the  familiarity  of  an  old 
acquaintance,  the  former  had  accosted. 

"  Is  it  possible,  my  dear  sir,"  resumed  he  with  the 
weed,  "  that  you  do  not  recall  my  countenance?  why 
yours  I  recall  distinctly  as  if  but  half  an  hour,  instead  of 
half  an  age,  had  passed  since  I  saw  you.  Don't  you 
recall  me,  now  ?  Look  harder." 

"  In  my  conscience — truly — I  protest,"  honestly 
bewildered,  "bless  ray  soul,  sir,  I  don't  know  you — 
really,  really.  But  stay,  stay,"  he  hurriedly  added,  not 
without  gratification,  glancing  up  at  the  crape  on  the 
stranger's  hat,  "  stay — yes — seems  to  me,  though  I  have 


RENEWAL     OF     OLD     ACQUAINTANCE.          27 

not  the  pleasure  of  personally  knowing  you,  yet  I  am 
pretty  sure  I  have  at  least  heard  of  you,  and  recently 
too,  quite  recently.  A  poor  negro  aboard  here  referred 
to  you,  among  others,  for  a  character,  I  think." 

"  Oh,  the  cripple.  Poor  fellow.  I  know  him  well. 
They  found  me.  I  have  said  all  I  could  for  him.  I  think 
I  abated  their  distrust.  Would  I  could  have  been  of 
more  substantial  service.  And  apropos,  sir,"  he  added, 
"  now  that  it  strikes  me,  allow  me  to  ask,  whether  the 
circumstance  of  one  man,  however  humble,  referring  fora 
character  to  another  man,  however  afflicted,  does  not 
argue  more  or  less  of  moral  worth  in  the  latter  ?" 

The  good  merchant  looked  puzzled. 

"  Still  you  don't  recall  my  countenance?" 

"  Still  does  truth  compel  me  to  say  that  I  cannot, 
despite  my  best  efforts,"  was  the  reluctantly-candid  reply. 

"  Can  I  be  so  changed?  Look  at  me.  Or  is  it  I  who 
am  mistaken? — Are  you  not,  sir,  Henry  Koberts,  for 
warding  merchant,  of  Wheeling,  Pennsylvania?  Pray, 
now,  if  you  use  the  advertisement  of  business  cards, 
and  happen  to  have  one  with  you,  just  look  at  it,  and  see 
whether  you  are  not  the  man  I  take  you  for." 

"  Why,"  a  bit  chafed,  perhaps,  "  I  hope  I  know  my 
self." 

"  And  yet  self-knowledge  is  thought  by  some  not  so 
easy.  Who  knows,  my  dear  sir,  but  for  a  time  you  may 
have  taken  yourself  for  somebody  else  ?  Stranger  things 
have  happened." 

The  good  merchant  stared. 

uTo  come  to  particulars,  my  dear  sir,  I  met  you,  now 


28  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

some  six  years  back,  at  Brade  Brothers  &  Co.'s  office,  I 
think.  I  was  traveling  for  a  Philadelphia  house.  The 
senior  Brade  introduced  us,  you  remember;  some  bu 
siness-chat  followed,  then  you  forced  me  home  with  you 
to  a  family  tea,  and  a  family  time  we  had.  Have  you 
forgotten  about  the  urn,  and  what  I  said  about  Werter's 
Charlotte,  and  the  bread  and  butter,  and  that  capital 
story  you  told  of  the  large  loaf.  A  hundred  times  since, 
I  have  laughed  over  it.  At  least  you  must  recall  my 
name — Kingman,  John  Ringman." 

"Large  loaf?  Invited  you  to  tea  ?  Ringman?  Ring 
man?  Ring?  Ring?" 

"Ah  sir,"  sadly  smiling,  don't  ring  the  changes  that 
way.  I  see  you  have  a  faithless  memory,  Mr.  Roberts. 
But  trust  in  the  faithfulness  of  mine." 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  in  some  things  my  memory 
aint  of  the  very  best,"  was  the  honest  rejoinder.  "But 
still,"  he  perplexedly  added,  "still  I—" 

"Oh  sir,  suffice  it  that  it  is  as  I  say.  Doubt  not  that 
we  are  all  well  acquainted." 

"  But — but  I  don't  like  this  going  dead  against  my 
own  memory;  I — " 

"  But  didn't  you  admit,  my  dear  sir,  that  in  some 
things  this  memory  of  yours  is  a  little  faithless?  Now, 
those  who  have  faithless  memories,  should  they  not  have 
some  little  confidence  in  the  less  faithless  memories  of 
others?" 

"  But,  of  this  friendly  chat  and  tea,  I  have  not  the 
slightest — " 

"I  see,  I  see;  quite  erased  from  the  tablet.     Pray, 


RENEWAL     OF     OLD     ACQUAINTANCE.          29 

sir,"  with  a  sudden  illumination,  "  about  six  years  back, 
did  it  happen  to  you  to  receive  any  injury  on  the  head? 
Surprising  effects  have  arisen  from  such  a  cause.  Not 
alone  unconsciousness  as  to  events  for  a  greater  or  less 
time  immediately  subsequent  to  the  injury,  but  likewise 
— strange  to  add — oblivion,  entire  and  incurable,  as  to 
events  embracing  a  longer  or  shorter  period  immedi 
ately  preceding  it ;  that  is,  when  the  mind  at  the  time 
was  perfectly  sensible  of  them,  and  fully  competent  also 
to  register  them  in  the  memory,  and  did  in  fact  so  do ; 
but  all  in  vain,  for  all  was  afterwards  bruised  out  by 
the  injury." 

After  the  first  start,  the  merchant  listened  with  what 
appeared  more  than  ordinary  interest.  The  other  pro 
ceeded  : 

"In  my  boyhood  I  was  kicked  by  a  horse,  and  lay 
insensible  for  a  long  time.  Upon  recovering,  what  a 
blank !  No  faintest  trace  in  regard  to  how  I  had  come 
near  the  horse,  or  what  horse  it  was,  or  where  it  was,  or 
that  it  was  a  horse  at  all  that  had  brought  me  to  that 
pass.  For  the  knowledge  of  those  particulars  I  am  in 
debted  solely  to  my  friends,  in  whose  statements,  I  need 
not  say,  I  place  implicit  reliance,  since  particulars  of 
some  sort  there  must  have  been,  and  why  should  they 
deceive  me?  You  see,  sir,  the  mind  is  ductile,  very 
much  so  :  but  images,  ductilely  received  into  it,  need  a 
certain  time  to  harden  and  bake  in  their  impressions, 
otherwise  such  a  casualty  as  I  speak  of  will  in  an  instant 
obliterate  them,  as  though  they  had  never  been.  We 
are  but  clay,  sir,  potter's  clay,  as  the  good  book  says, 


30  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

clay,  feeble,  and  too-yielding  clay.  But  I  will  not  phi 
losophize.  Tell  me,  was  it  your  misfortune  to  receive 
any  concussion  upon  the  brain  about  the  period  I  speak 
of?  If  so,  I  will  with  pleasure  supply  the  void  in  your 
memory  by  more  minutely  rehearsing  the  circumstances 
of  our  acquaintance." 

The  growing  interest  betrayed  by  the  merchant  had 
not  relaxed  as  the  other  proceeded.  After  some  hesita 
tion,  indeed,  something  more  than  hesitation,  he  con 
fessed  that,  though  he  had  never  received  any  injury  of 
the  sort  named,  yet,  about  the  time  in  question,  he  had 
in  fact  been  taken  with  a  brain  fever,  losing  his  mind 
completely  for  a  considerable  interval.  He  was  con 
tinuing,  when  the  stranger  with  much  animation  ex 
claimed  : 

"  There  now,  you  see,  I  was  not  wholly  mistaken. 
That  brain  fever  accounts  for  it  all." 

"  Nay  ;  but—" 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Roberts,"  respectfully  interrupting 
him,  "  but  time  is  short,  and  I  have  something  private 
and  particular  to  say  to  you.  Allow  me." 

Mr.  Roberts,  good  man,  could  but  acquiesce,  and  the 
two  having  silently  walked  to  a  less  public  spot,  the  man 
ner  of  the  man  with  the  weed  suddenly  assumed  a  serious 
ness  almost  painful.  What  might  be  called  a  writhing 
expression  stole  over  him.  He  seemed  struggling  with 
some  disastrous  necessity  inkept.  He  made  one  or  two 
attempts  to  speak,  but  words  seemed  to  choke  him. 
His  companion  stood  in  humane  surprise,  wondering 
what  was  to  come.  At  length,  with  an  effort  mas- 


RENEWAL     OF     OLD    ACQUAINTANCE.          31 

tering  his  feelings,  in  a  tolerably  composed  tone  he 
spoke : 

"If  I  remember,  you  are  a  mason,  Mr.  Roberts?" 

"Yes,  yes." 

Averting  himself  a  moment,  as  to  recover  from  a  re 
turn  of  agitation,  the  stranger  grasped  the  other's  hand; 
"and  would  you  not  loan  a  brother  a  shilling  if  he 
needed  it?" 

The  merchant  started,  apparently,  almost  as  if  to  re 
treat. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Roberts,  I  trust  you  are  not  one  of  those 
business  men,  who  make  a  business  of  never  having  to 
do  with  unfortunates.  For  God's  sake  don't  leave  me. 
I  have  something  on  my  heart — on  my  heart.  Under 
deplorable  circumstances  thrown  among  strangers,  ut 
ter  strangers.  I  want  a  friend  in  whom  I  may  confide. 
Yours,  Mr.  Roberts,  is  almost  the  first  known  face  I've 
seen  for  many  weeks." 

It  was  so  sudden  an  outburst ;  the  interview  offered 
such  a  contrast  to  the  scene  around,  that  the  merchant, 
though  not  used  to  be  very  indiscreet,  yet,  being  not 
entirely  inhumane,  remained  not  entirely  unmoved. 

The  other,  still  tremulous,  resumed  : 

"  I  need  not  say,  sir,  how  it  cuts  me  to  the  soul,  to 
follow  up  a  social  salutation  with  such  words  as  have 
just  been  mine.  I  know  that  I  jeopardize  your  good  opin 
ion.  But  I  can't  help  it :  necessity  knows  no  law,  and 
heeds  no  risk.  Sir,  we  are  masons,  one  more  step  aside  ; 
I  will  tell  you  my  story." 

In  a  low,  half-suppressed  tone,  he  began  it.     Judging 


32  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

from  his  auditor's  expression,  it  seemed  to  be  a  tale  of 
singular  interest,  involving  calamities  against  which  no 
integrity,  no  forethought,  no  energy,  no  genius,  no  piety, 
could  guard. 

At  every  disclosure,  the  hearer's  commiseration  in 
creased.  No  sentimental  pity.  As  the  story  went  on, 
he  drew  from  his  wallet  a  bank  note,  but  after  a  while, 
at  some  still  more  unhappy  revelation,  changed  it  for 
another,  probably  of  a  somewhat  larger  amount ;  which, 
when  the  story  was  concluded,  with  an  air  studiously 
disclamatory  of  alms-giving,  he  put  into  the  stranger's 
hands ;  who,  on  his  side,  with  an  air  studiously  disclama 
tory  of  alms-taking,  put  it  into  his  pocket. 

Assistance  being  received,  the  stranger's  manner  as 
sumed  a  kind  and  degree  of  decorum  which,  under  the 
circumstances,  seemed  almost  coldness.  After  some  words, 
not  over  ardent,  and  yet  not  exactly  inappropriate,  he 
took  leave,  making  a  bow  which  had  one  knows  not 
what  of  a  certain  chastened  independence  about  it ;  as 
if  misery,  however  burdensome,  could  not  break  down 
self-respect,  nor  gratitude,  however  deep,  humiliate  a 
gentleman. 

He  was  hardly  yet  out  of  sight,  when  he  paused  as  if 
thinking  ;  then  with  hastened  steps  returning  to  the 
merchant,  "  I  am  just  reminded  that  the  president,  who 
is  also  transfer-agent,  of  the  Black  Rapids  Coal  Company, 
happens  to  be  on  board  here,  and,  having  been  subpoe 
naed  as  witness  in  a  stock  case  on  the  docket  in  Ken 
tucky,  has  his  transfer-book  with  him.  A  month  since, 
in  a  panic  contrived  by  artful  alarmists,  some  credulous 


RENEWAL     OF     OLD     ACQUAINTANCE.          33 

stock-holders  sold  out ;  but,  to  frustrate  the  aim  of  the 
alarmists,  the  Company,  previously  advised  of  their 
scheme,  so  managed  it  as  to  get  into  its  own  hands  those 
sacrificed  shares,  resolved  that,  since  a  spurious  panic 
must  be,  the  panic-makers  should  be  no  gainers  by  it. 
The  Company,  I  hear,  is  now  ready,  but  not  anxious,  to 
redispose  of  those  shares  ;  and  having  obtained  them  at 
their  depressed  value,  will  now  sell  them  at  par,  though, 
prior  to  the  panic,  they  were  held  at  a  handsome  figure 
above.  That  the  readiness  of  the  Company  to  do  this 
is  not  generally  known,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the 
stock  still  stands  on  the  transfer-book  in  the  Company's 
name,  offering  to  one  in  funds  a  rare  chance  for  invest 
ment.  For,  the  panic  subsiding  more  and  more  every 
day,  it  will  daily  be  seen  how  it  originated  ;  confidence 
will  be  more  than  restored  ;  there  will  be  a  reaction ; 
from  the  stock's  descent  its  rise  will  be  higher  than  from 
no  fall,  the  holders  trusting  themselves  to  fear  no  se 
cond  fate." 

Having  listened  at  first  with  curiosity,  at  last  with 
interest,  the  merchant  replied  to  the  effect,  that  some 
time  since,  through  friends  concerned  with  it,  he  had 
heard  of  the  company,  and  heard  well  of  it,  but  was  igno 
rant  that  there  had  latterly  been  fluctuations.  He  added 
that  he  was  no  speculator  ;  that  hitherto  he  had  avoided 
having  to  do  with  stocks  of  any  sort,  but  in  the  present 
case  he  really  felt  something  like  being  tempted.  "Pray," 
in  conclusion,  "  do  you  think  that  upon  a  pinch  anything 
could  be  transacted  on  board  here  with  the  transfer- 
agent  ?  Are  you  acquainted  with  him  ?" 
2* 


34  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  Not  personally.  I  but  happened  to  hear  that  he 
was  a  passenger.  For  the  rest,  though  it  might  be 
somewhat  informal,  the  gentleman  might  not  object  to 
doing  a  little  business  on  board.  Along  the  Mississippi, 
you  know,  business  is  not  so  ceremonious  as  at  the 
East." 

"  True,"  returned  the  merchant,  and  looked  down  a 
moment  in  thought,  then,  raising  his  head  quickly,  said, 
in  a  tone  not  so  benign  as  his  wonted  one,  "  This  would 
seem  a  rare  chance,  indeed ;  why,  upon  first  hearing  it, 
did  you  not  snatch  at  it  ?  I  mean  for  yourself!" 

"  I  ? — would  it  had  been  possible  !" 

Not  without  some  emotion  was  this  said,  and  not 
without  some  embarrassment  was  the  reply.  "  Ah,  yes, 
I  had  forgotten." 

Upon  this,  the  stranger  regarded  him  with  mild  gravi 
ty,  not  a  little  disconcerting;  the  more  so,  as  there  was 
in  it  what  seemed  the  aspect  not  alone  of  the  superior, 
but,  as  it  were,  the  rebuker ;  which  sort  of  bearing,  in 
a  beneficiary  towards  his  benefactor,  looked  strangely 
enough ;  none  the  less,  that,  somehow,  it  sat  not  alto 
gether  unbecomingly  upon  the  beneficiary,  being  free 
from  anything  like  the  appearance  of  assumption,  and 
mixed  with  a  kind  of  painful  conscientiousness,  as 
though  nothing  but  a  proper  sense  of  what  he  owed  to 
himself  swayed  him.  At  length  he  spoke  : 

"  To  reproach  a  penniless  man  with  remissness  in  not 
availing  himself  of  an  opportunity  for  pecuniary  invest 
ment — but,  no,  no  ;  it  was  forgetfulness ;  and  this, 
charity  will  impute  to  some  lingering  effect  of  that  un- 


RENEWAL     OF     OLD     ACQUAINTANCE.          35 

fortunate  brain-fever,  which,  as  to  occurrences  dating 
yet  further  back,  disturbed  Mr.  Roberts's  memory  still 
more  seriously." 

"  As  to  that,"  said  the  merchant,  rallying,  "  I  am 
not—" 

"  Pardon  me,  but  you  must  admit,  that  just  now,  an 
unpleasant  distrust,  however  vague,  was  yours.  Ah, 
shallow  as  it  is,  yet,  how  subtle  a -thing  is  suspicion, 
which  at  times  can  invade  the  humanest  of  hearts  and 
wisest  of  heads.  But,  enough.  My  object,  sir,  in  call 
ing  your  attention  to  this  stock,  is  by  way  of  acknow 
ledgment  of  your  goodness.  I  but  seek  to  be  grateful ; 
if  my  information  leads  to  nothing,  you  must  remember 
the  motive." 

He  bowed,  and  finally  retired,  leaving  Mr.  Roberts 
not  wholly  without  self-reproach,  for  having  momenta 
rily  indulged  injurious  thoughts  against  one  who,  it  was 
evident,  was  possessed  of  a  self-respect  which  forbade 
his  indulging  them  himself. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE     MAN    WITH     THE    WEED     MAKES    IT   AN   EVEN    QUESTION    WHETHER 
HE   BE  A  GREAT   SAGE   OR   A   GREAT   SIMPLETON. 

"  WELL,  there  is  sorrow  in  the  world,  but  goodness 
too  ;  and  goodness  that  is  not  greenness,  either,  no  more 
than  sorrow  is.  Dear  good  man.  Poor  beating  heart !" 

It  was  the  man  with  the  weed,  not  very  long  after 
quitting  the  merchant,  murmuring  to  himself  with  his 
hand  to  his  side  like  one  with  the  heart-disease. 

Meditation  over  kindness  received  seemed  to  have 
softened  him  something,  too,  it  may  be,  beyond  what 
might,  perhaps,  have  been  looked  for  from  one  whose 
unwonted  self-respect  in  the  hour  of  need,  and  in  the  act 
of  being  aided,  might  have  appeared  to  some  not  wholly 
unlike  pride  out  of  place  ;  and  pride,  in  any  place,  is 
seldom  very  feeling.  But  the  truth,  perhaps,  is,  that 
those  who  are  least  touched  with  that  vice,  besides  be 
ing  not  unsusceptible  to  goodness,  are  sometimes  the 
ones  whom  a  ruling  sense  of  propriety  makes  appear 
cold,  if  not  thankless,  under  a  favor.  For,  at  such  a 
time,  to  be  full  of  warm,  earnest  words,  and  heart-felt 
protestations,  is  to  create  a  scene ;  and  well-bred  peo 
ple  dislike  few  things  more  than  that ;  which  would 


THE     MAN     WITH     THE     WEED,     ETC.  37 

seem  to  look  as  if  the  world  did  not  relish  earnestness  ; 
but,  not  so  ;  because  the  world,  being  earnest  itself,  likes 
an  earnest  scene,  and  an  earnest  man,  very  well,  but 
only  in  their  place — the  stage.  See  what  sad  work  they 
make  of  it,  who,  ignorant  of  this,  flame  out  in  Irish 
enthusiasm  and  with  Irish  sincerity,  to  a  benefactor, 
who,  if  a  man  of  sense  and  respectability,  as  well  as 
kindliness,  can  but  be  more  or  less  annoyed  by  it; 
and,  if  of  a  nervously  fastidious  nature,  as  some  are, 
may  be  led  to  think  almost  as  much  less  favorably  of 
the  beneficiary  paining  him  by  his  gratitude,  as  if  he  had 
been  guilty  of  its  contrary,  instead  only  of  an  indiscre 
tion.  But,  beneficiaries  who  know  better,  though  they 
may  feel  as  much,  if  not  more,  neither  inflict  such  pain, 
nor  are  inclined  to  run  any  risk  of  so  doing.  And  these, 
being  wise,  are  the  majority.  By  which  one  sees  how 
inconsiderate  those  persons  are,  who,  from  the  absence 
of  its  officious  manifestations  in  the  world,  complain  that 
there  is  not  much  gratitude  extant ;  when  the  truth  is, 
that  there  is  as  much  of  it  as  there  is  of  modesty ;  but, 
both  being  for  the  most  part  votarists  of  the  shade,  for 
the  most  part  keep  out  of  sight. 

What  started  this  was,  to  account,  if  necessary,  for 
the  changed  air  of  the  man  with  the  weed,  who,  throw 
ing  off  in  private  the  cold  garb  of  decorum,  and  so  giv 
ing  warmly  loose  to  his  genuine  heart,  seemed  almost 
transformed  into  another  being.  This  subdued  air  of 
softness,  too,  was  toned  with  melancholy,  melancholy 
unreserved  ;  a  thing  which,  however  at  variance  with 
propriety,  still  the  more  attested  his  earnestness ;  for 


38  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

one  knows  not  how  it  is,  but  it  sometimes  happens  that, 
where  earnestness  is,  there,  also,  is  melancholy. 

At  the  time,  he  was  leaning  over  the  rail  at  the  boat's 
side,  in  his  pensiveuess,  unmindful  of  another  pensive 
figure  near — a  young  gentleman  with  a  swan-neck, 
wearing  a  lady-like  open  shirt  collar,  thrown  back,  and 
tied  with  a  black  ribbon.  From  a  square,  tableted 
broach,  curiously  engraved  with  Greek  characters,  he 
seemed  a  collegian — not  improbably,  a  sophomore — on 
his  travels;  possibly,  his  first.  A  small  book  bound  in 
Roman  vellum  was  in  his  hand. 

Overhearing  his  murmuring  neighbor,  the  youth 
regarded  him  with  some  surprise,  not  to  say  interest. 
But,  singularly  for  a  collegian,  being  apparently  of  a 
retiring  nature,  he  did  not  speak  ;  when  the  other  still 
more  increased  his  diffidence  by  changing  from  soliloquy 
to  colloquy,  in  a  manner  strangely  mixed  of  familiarity 
and  pathos. 

"  Ah,  who  is  this  ?  You.  did  not  hear  me,  my  young 
friend,  did  you?  Why,  you,  too,  look  sad.  My  melan 
choly  is  not  catching  !" 

"  Sir,  sir,"  stammered  the  other. 

"  Pray,  now,"  with  a  sort  of  sociable  sorrowfulness, 
slowly  sliding  along  the  rail,  "  Pray,  now,  my  young 
friend,  what  volume  have  you  there  ?  Give  me  leave," 
gently  drawing  it  from  him.  "Tacitus!"  Then  open 
ing  it  at  random,  read  :  "In  general  a  black  and  shame 
ful  period  lies  before  me."  "  Dear  young  sir,"  touching 
his  arm  alarmedly,  "  don't  read  this  book.  It  is  poi 
son,  moral  poison.  Even  were  there  truth  in  Tacitus, 


THE     MAN     WITH      THE     WEED,     ETC.  39 

such  truth  would  have  the  operation  of  falsity,  and  so 
still  be  poison,  moral  poison.  Too  well  I  know  this 
Tacitus.  In  my  college-days  he  came  near  souriner  me 
into  cynicism.  Yes,  I  began  to  turn  down  my  collar, 
and  go  about  with  a  disdainfully  joyless  expression." 

"Sir,  sir,  I— I—" 

"  Trust  me.  Now,  young  friend,  perhaps  you  think 
that  Tacitus,  like  me,  is  only  melancholy  ;  but  he's  more 
— he's  ugly.  A  vast  difference,  young  sir,  between  the 
melancholy  view  and  the  ugly.  The  one  may  show  the 
world  still  beautiful,  not  so  the  other.  The  one  may  be 
compatible  with  benevolence,  the  other  not.  The  one 
may  deepen  insight,  the  other  shallows  it.  Drop  Taci 
tus.  Phrenologically,  my  young  friend,  you  would 
seem  to  have  a  well-developed  head,  and  large ;  but 
cribbed  within  the  ugly  view,  the  Tacitus  view,  your 
large  brain,  like  your  large  ox  in  the  contracted  field, 
will  but  starve  the  more.  And  don't  dream,  as  some  of 
you  students  may,  that,  by  taking  this  same  ugly  view, 
the  deeper  meanings  of  the  deeper  books  will  so  alone 
become  revealed  to  you.  Drop  Tacitus.  His  subtlety 
is  falsity.  To  him,  in  his  double-refined  anatomy  of 
human  nature,  is  well  applied  the  Scripture  saying — 
'  There  is  a  subtle  man,  and  the  same  is  deceived.'  Drop 
Tacitus.  Come,  now,  let  me  throw  the  book  over 
board." 

"Sir,  I— I—" 

"  Not  a  word  ;  I  know  just  what  is  in  your  mind,  and 
that  is  just  what  I  am  speaking  to.  Yes,  learn  from  me 
that,  though  the  sorrows  of  the  world  are  great,  its 


40  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

wickedness — that  is,  its  ugliness — is  small.  Much  cause 
to  pity  man,  little  to  distrust  him.  I  myself  have  known 
adversity,  and  know  it  still.  But  for  that,  do  I  turn 
cynic  ?  No,  no :  it  is  small  beer  that  sours.  To  my 
fellow-creatures  I  owe  alleviations.  So,  whatever  I 
may  have  undergone,  it  but  deepens  my  confidence  in 
my  kind.  Now,  then"  (winningly),  "  this  book — will 
you  let  me  drown  it  for  you  ?" 

"Really,  sir— I—" 

"  I  see,  I  see.  But  of  course  you  read  Tacitus  in  order 
to  aid  you  in  understanding  human  nature — as  if  truth 
was  ever  got  at  by  libel.  My  young  friend,  if  to  know 
human  nature  is  your  object,  drop  Tacitus  and  go  north 
to  the  cemeteries  of  Auburn  and  Greenwood." 

"  Upon  my  word,  I — I — " 

"  Nay,  I  foresee  all  that.  But  you  carry  Tacitus, 
that  shallow  Tacitus.  What  do  I  carry  ?  See" — pro 
ducing  a  pocket-volume — "  Akenside — his  *  Pleasures 
of  Imagination.'  One  of  these  days  you  will  know  it. 
Whatever  our  lot,  we  should  read  serene  and  cheery 
books,  fitted  to  inspire  love  and  trust.  But  Tacitus  !  I 
have  long  been  of  opinion  that  these  classics  are  the  bane 
of  colleges  ;  for — not  to  hint  of  the%  immorality  of  Ovid, 
Horace,  Anacreon,  and  the  rest,  and  the  dangerous  theo 
logy  of  Eschylus  and  others — where  will  one  find  views 
so  injurious  to  human  nature  as  in  Thucydides,  Juvenal, 
Lucian,  but  more  particularly  Tacitus  ?  When  I  con 
sider  that,  ever  since  the  revival  of  learning,  these  classics 
have  been  the  favorites  of  successive  generations  of  stu 
dents  and  studious  men,  I  tremble  to  think  of  that  mass 


THE     MAN     WITH     THE     WEED,     ETC.  41 

of  unsuspected  heresy  on  every  vital  topic  which  for 
centuries  must  have  simmered  unsurmised  in  the  heart 
of  Christendom.  But  Tacitus — he  is  the  most  extraordi 
nary  example  of  a  heretic ;  not  one  iota  of  confidence  in 
his  kind.  What  a  mockery  that  such  an  one  should  be 
reputed  wise,  and  Thucydides  be  esteemed  the  states 
man's  manual!  But  Tacitus — I  hate  Tacitus;  not, 
though,  I  trust,  with  the  hate  that  sins,  but  a  righteous 
hate.  Without  confidence  himself,  Tacitus  destroys  it 
in  all  his  readers.  •  Destroys  confidence,  paternal  confi 
dence,  of  which  God  knows  that  there  is  in  this  world 
none  to  spare.  For,  comparatively  inexperienced  as  you 
are,  my  dear  young  friend,  did  you  never  observe  how 
little,  very  little,  confidence,  there  is  ?  I  mean  between 
man  and  man — more  particularly  between  stranger  and 
stranger.  In  a  sad  world  it  is  the  saddest  fact.  Confi 
dence  !  I  have  sometimes  almost  thought  that  confi 
dence  is  fled  ;  that  confidence  is  the  New  Astrea — emi 
grated — vanished — gone."  Then  softly  sliding  nearer, 
with  the  softest  air,  quivering  down  and  looking  up, 
"  could  you  now,  my  dear  young  sir,  under  such  circum 
stances,  by  way  of  experiment,  simply  have  confidence 
in  me  ?" 

From  the  outset,  the  sophomore,  as  has  been  seen, 
had  struggled  with  an  ever-increasing  embarrassment, 
arising,  perhaps,  from  such  strange  remarks  coming  from 
a  stranger — such  persistent  and  prolonged  remarks,  too. 
In  vain  had  he  more  than  once  sought  to  break  the 
spell  by  venturing  a  deprecatory  or  leave-taking  word. 
In  vain.  Somehow,  the  stranger  fascinated  him.  Little 


42  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

wonder,  then,  that,  when  the  appeal  came,  he  could 
hardly  speak,  but,  as  before  intimated,  being  apparently 
of  a  retiring  nature,  abruptly  retired  from  the  spot,  leav 
ing  the  chagrined  stranger  to  wander  away  in  the  oppo 
site  direction. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AT  THE  OUTSET  OP  WHICH  CERTAIN  PASSENGERS  PROVE  DEAF 
TO  THE  CALL  OF  CHARITY. 

— "  You — pish  !  Why  will  the  captain  suffer  these 
begging  fellows  on  board  ?" 

These  pettish  words  were  breathed  by  a  well-to-do 
gentleman  in  a  ruby-colored  velvet  vest,  and  with  a  ruby- 
colored  cheek,  a  ruby-headed  cane  in  his  hand,  to  a  man  in 
a  gray  coat  and  white  tie,  who,  shortly  after  the  interview 
last  described,  had  accosted  him  for  contributions  to  a 
Widow  and  Orphan  Asylum  recently  founded  among  the 
Seminoles.  Upon  a  cursory  view,  this  last  person  might 
have  seemed,  like  the  man  with  the  weed,  one  of  the  less 
unrefined  children  of  misfortune ;  but,  on  a  closer  observa 
tion,  his  countenance  revealed  little  of  sorrow,  though 
much  of  sanctity. 

With  added  words  of  touchy  disgust,  the  well-to-do 
gentleman  hurried  away.  But,  though  repulsed,  and 
rudely,  the  man  in  gray  did  not  reproach,  for  a  time 
patiently  remaining  in  the  chilly  loneliness  to  which  he 
had  been  left,  his  countenance,  however,  not  without 
token  of  latent  though  chastened  reliance. 


44  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

At  length  an  old  gentleman,  somewhat  bulky,  drew 
nigh,  and  from  him  also  a  contribution  was  sought. 

"  Look,  you,"  coming  to  a  dead  halt,  and  scowling 
upon  him.  "  Look,  you,"  swelling  his  bulk  out  before 
him  like  a  swaying  balloon,  "  look,  you,  you  on  others' 
behalf  ask  for  money  ;  you,  a  fellow  with  a  face  as  long 
as  my  arm.  Hark  ye,  now :  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
gravity,  and  in  condemned  felons  it  may  be  genuine  ; 
but  of  long  faces  there  are  three  sorts ;  that  of  grief's 
drudge,  that  of  the  lantern-jawed  man,  and  that  of  the 
impostor.  You  know  best  which  yours  is." 

"  Heaven  give  you  more  charity,  sir." 

"  And  you  less  hypocrisy,  sir." 

With  which  words,  the  hard-hearted  old  gentleman 
marched  off. 

While  the  other  still  stood  forlorn,  the  young  clergy 
man,  before  introduced,  passing  that  way,  catching  a 
chance  sight  of  him,  seemed  suddenly  struck  by  some 
recollection ;  and,  after  a  moment's  pause,  hurried  up 
with :  "  Your  pardon,  but  shortly  since  I  was  all  over 
looking  for  you." 

"  For  me  ?"  as  marveling  that  one  of  so  little  account 
should  be  sought  for. 

"  Yes,  for  you ;  do  you  know  anything  about  the 
negro,  apparently  a  cripple,  aboard  here?  Is  he,  or  is 
he  not,  what  he  seems  to  be  ?" 

"  Ah,  poor  Guinea !  have  you,  too,  been  distrusted  ? 
you,  upon  whom  nature  has  placarded  the  evidence  of 
your  claims?" 

"  Then  you  do  really  know  him,  and   he  is  quite 


CERTAIN     PASSENGERS     PROVE     DEAF,    E  T  C .  45 

worthy  ?  It  relieves  me  to  hear  it — much  relieves  me. 
Come,  let  us  go  find  him,  and  see  what  can  be  done." 

"  Another  instance  that  confidence  may  come  too 
late.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  at  the  last  landing  I  my 
self—just  happening  to  catch  sight  of  him  on  the  gang 
way-plank — assisted  the  cripple  ashore.  No  time  to 
talk,  only  to  help.  He  may  not  have  told  you,  but  he 
has  a  brother  in  that  vicinity." 

"  Really,  I  regret  his  going  without  rny  seeing  him 
again ;  regret  it,  more,  perhaps,  than  you  can  readily  think. 
You  see,  shortly  after  leaving  St.  Louis,  he  was  on  the 
forecastle,  and  there,  with  many  others,  I  saw  him,  and 
put  trust  in  him ;  so  much  so,  that,  to  convince  those 
who  did  not,  I,  at  his  entreaty,  went  in  search  of  you, 
you  being  one  of  several  individuals  he  mentioned,  and 
whose  personal  appearance  he  more  or  less  described, 
individuals  who  he  said  would  willingly  speak  for  him. 
But,  after  diligent  search,  not  finding  you,  and  catching 
no  glimpse  of  any  of  the  others  he  had  enumerated, 
doubts  were  at  last  suggested  ;  but  doubts  indirectly 
originating,  as  I  can  but  think,  from  prior  distrust  un 
feelingly  proclaimed  by  another.  Still,  certain  it  is,  I 
began  to  suspect." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

A  sort  of  laugh  more  like  a  groan  than  a  laugh  ;  and 
yet,  somehow,  it  seemed  intended  for  a  laugh. 

Both  turned,  and  the  young  clergyman  started  at 
seeing  the  wooden-legged  man  close  behind  him,  mo 
rosely  grave  as  a  criminal  judge  with  a  mustard-plaster 
on  his  back.  In  the  present  case  the  mustard-plaster 


46  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

might  have  been  the  memory  of  certain  recent  biting 
rebuffs  and  mortifications. 

"  Wouldn't  think  it  was  I  who  laughed,  would  you  ?" 

"But  who  was  it  you  laughed  at  ?  or  rather,  tried  to 
laugh  at?"  demanded  the  young  clergyman,  flushing, 
"me?" 

"  Neither  you  nor  any  one  within  a  thousand  miles 
of  you.  But  perhaps  you  don't  believe  it." 

"  If  he  were  of  a  suspicious  temper,  he  might  not," 
interposed  the  man  in  gray  calmly,  "  it  is  one  of  the 
imbecilities  of  the  suspicious  person  to  fancy  that  every 
stranger,  however  absent-minded,  he  sees  so  much  as 
smiling  or  gesturing  to  himself  in  any  odd  sort  of  way, 
is  secretly  making  him  his  butt.  In  some  moods,  the 
movements  of  an  entire  street,  as  the  suspicious  man 
walks  down  it,  will  seem  an  express  pantomimic  jeer  at 
him.  In  short,  the  suspicious  man  kicks  himself  with 
his  own  foot." 

"  Whoever  can  do  that,  ten  to  one  he  saves  other 
folks'  sole-leather,"  said  the  wooden-legged  man  with  a 
crusty  attempt  at  humor.  But  with  augmented  grin 
and  squirm,  turning  directly  upon  the  young  clergyman, 
"  you  still  think  it  was  you  I  was  laughing  at,  just  now. 
To  prove  your  mistake,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  was 
laughing  at;  a  story  I  happened  to  call  to  mind  just 
then." 

Whereupon,  in  his  porcupine  way,  and  with  sarcastic 
details,  unpleasant  to  repeat,  he  related  a  story,  which 
might,  perhaps,  in  a  good-natured  version,  be  rendered 
as  follows : 


CERTAIN     PASSENGERS     PROVE     DEAF,     ETC.  47 

i 

A  certain  Frenchman  of  New  Orleans,  an  old  man, 
less  slender  in  purse  than  limb,  happening  to  attend 
the  theatre  one  evening,  was  so  charmed  with  the 
character  of  a  faithful  wife,  as  there  represented  to 
the  life,  that  nothing  would  do  but  he  must  marry  upon 
it.  So,  marry  he  did,  a  beautiful  girl  from  Tennessee,  who 
had  first  attracted  his  attention  by  her  liberal  mould, 
and  was  subsequently  recommended  to  him  through  her 
kin,  for  her  equally  liberal  education  and  disposition. 
Though  large,  the  praise  proved  not  too  much.  For, 
ere  long,  rumor  more  than  corroborated  it,  by  whisper 
ing  that  the  lady  was  liberal  to  a  fault.  But  though  vari 
ous  circumstances,  which  by  most  Benedicts  would  have 
been  deemed  all  but  conclusive,  were  duly  recited  to  the 
old  Frenchman  by  his  friends,  yet  such  was  his  confi 
dence  that  not  a  syllable  would  he  credit,  till,  chancing 
one  night  to  return  unexpectedly  from  a  journey,  upon 
entering  his  apartment,  a  stranger  burst  from  the  alcove  : 
"  Begar!"  cried  he,  "  now  I  begin  to  suspec." 

His  story  told,  the  wooden-legged  man  threw  back 
his  head,  and  gave  vent  to  a  long,  gasping,  rasping  sort 
of  taunting  cry,  intolerable  as  that  of  a  high-pressure 
engine  jeering  off  steam  ;  and  that  done,  with  apparent 
satisfaction  hobbled  away. 

"  Who  is  that  scoffer,"  said  the  man  in  gray,  not  with 
out  warmth.  "  Who  is  he,  who  even  were  truth  on  his 
tongue,  his  way  of  speaking  it  would  make  truth  almost 
offensive  as  falsehood.  Who  is  he  ?" 

"  He  who  I  mentioned  to  you  as  having  boasted  his 
suspicion  of  the  negro,"  replied  the  young  clergyman, 


48  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

recovering  from  disturbance,  "  in  short,  the  person 
to  whom  I  ascribe  the  origin  of  my  own  distrust ;  he 
maintained  that  Guinea  was  some  white  scoundrel,  be- 
twisted  and  painted  up  for  a  decoy.  Yes,  these  were 
his  very  words,  I  think." 

"  Impossible !  he  could  not  be  so  wrong-headed. 
Pray,  will  you  call  him  back,  and  let  me  ask  him  if  he 
were  really  in  earnest?" 

The  other  complied ;  and,  at  length,  after  no  few  surly 
objections,  prevailed  upon  the  one-legged  individual  to 
return  for  a  moment.  Upon  which,  the  man  in  gray 
thus  addressed  him :  "  This  reverend  gentleman  tells 
me,  sir,  that  a  certain  cripple,  a  poor  negro,  is  by  you 
considered  an  ingenious  impostor.  Now,  I  am  not  una 
ware  that  there  are  some  persons  in  this  world,  who, 
unable  to  give  better  proof  of  being  wise,  take  a  strange 
delight  in  showing  what  they  think  they  have  saga 
ciously  read  in  mankind  by  uncharitable  suspicions 
of  them.  I  hope  you  are  not  one  of  these.  In  short, 
would  you  tell  me  now,  whether  you  were  not  merely 
joking  in  the  notion  you  threw  out  about  the  negro. 
Would  you  be  so  kind  ?" 

"  No,  I  won't  be  so  kind,  I'll  be  so  cruel." 

"As  you  please  about  that." 

"  Well,  he's  just  what  I  said  he  was." 

"  A  white  masquerading  as  a  black?" 

"  Exactly." 

The  man  in  gray  glanced  at  the  young  clergyman  a 
moment,  then  quietly  whispered  to  him,  "  I  thought  you 
represented  your  friend  here  as  a  very  distrustful  sort  of 


CERTAIN     PASSENGERS     PROVE     DEAF,     ETC.  49 

person,  but  he  appears  endued  with  a  singular  credulity. 
— Tell  me,  sir,  do  you  really  think  that  a  white  could 
look  the  negro  so  ?  For  one,  I  should  call  it  pretty  good 
acting." 

"  Not  much  better  than  any  other  man  acts." 

"How?  Does  all  the  world  act?  Am  7,  for  instance, 
an  actor?  Is  my  reverend  friend  here,  too,  a  performer?" 

"  Yes,  don't  you  both  perform  acts  ?  To  do,  is  to  act ; 
so  all  doers  are  actors." 

"You  trifle. — I  ask  again,  if  a  white,  how  could  he 
look  the  negro  so?" 

"  Never  saw  the  negro -minstrels,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  they  are  apt  to  overdo  the  ebony ;  exempli 
fying  the  old  saying,  not  more  just  than  charitable,  that 
*  the  devil  is  never  so  black  as  he  is  painted.'  But  his 
limbs,  if  not  a  cripple,  how  could  he  twist  his  limbs  so  ?" 

"  How  do  other  hypocritical  beggars  twist  theirs  ? 
Easy  enough  to  see  how  they  are  hoisted  up." 

"The  sham  is  evident,  then?" 

"  To  the  discerning  eye,"  with  a  horrible  screw  of  his 
gimlet  one. 

"Well,  where  is  Guinea?"  said  the  man  in  gray; 
"  where  is  he  ?  Let  us  at  once  find  himr  and  refute  beyond 
cavil  this  injurious  hypothesis." 

"Do  so,"  cried  the  one-eyed  man,  "I'm  just  in  the 
humor  now  for  having  him  found,  and  leaving  the  streaks 
of  these  fingers  on  his  paint,  as  the  lion  leaves  the 
streaks  of  his  nails  on  a  CaiFre.  They  wouldn't  let  me 
touch  him  before.  Yes,  find  him,  I'll  make  wool  fly, 

and  him  after." 
3 


50  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"  You  forget,"  here  said  the  young  clergyman  to  the 
man  in  gray,  "  that  yourself  helped  poor  Guinea  ashore." 

"  So  I  did,  so  I  did ;  how  unfortunate.  But  look 
now,"  to  the  other,  "  I  think  that  without  personal  proof 
I  can  convince  you  of  your  mistake.  For  I  put  it  to 
you,  is-  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  a  man  with  brains, 
sufficient  to  act  such  a  part  as  you  say,  would  take  all 
that  trouble,  and  run  all  that  hazard,  for  the  mere  sake 
of  those  few  paltry  coppers,  which,  I  hear,  was  all  he 
got  for  his  pains,  if  pains  they  were  ?" 

"  That  puts  the  case  irrefutably,"  said  the  young 
clergyman,  with  a  challenging  glance  towards  the  one- 
legged  man. 

"  You  two  green-horns  !  Money,  you  think,  is  the  sole 
motive  to  pains  and  hazard,  deception  and  deviltry,  in 
this  world.  How  much  money  did  the  devil  make  by 
gulling  Eve?" 

Whereupon  he  hobbled  off  again  with  a  repetition  of 
his  intolerable  jeer. 

The  man  in  gray  stood  silently  eying  his  retreat  a 
while,  and  then,  turning  to  his  companion,  said:  "A 
bad  man,  a  dangerous  man  ;  a  man  to  be  put  down  in 
any  Christian  community. — And  this  was  he  who  was 
the  means  of  begetting  your  distrust?  Ah,  we  should 
shut  our  ears  to  distrust,  and  keep  them  open  only  for  its 
opposite." 

"  You  advance  a  principle,  which,  if  I  had  acted  upon 
it  this  morning,  I  should  have  spared  myself  what  I  now 
feel. — That  but  one  man,  and  he  with  one  leg,  should 
have  such  ill  power  given  him  ;  his  one  sour  word 


CERTAIN     PASSENGERS     PROVE     DEAF,    ETC.  51 

leavening  into  congenial  sourness  (as,  to  my  knowledge, 
it  did)  the  dispositions,  before  sweet  enough,  of  a  numer 
ous  company.  But,  as  I  hinted,  with  me  at  the  time 
his  ill  words  went  for  nothing;  the  same  as  now;  only 
afterwards  they  had  effect ;  and  I  confess,  this  puzzles 
me." 

"  It  should  not.  With  humane  minds,  the  spirit  of 
distrust  works  something  as  certain  potions  do ;  it  is  a 
spirit  which  may  enter  such  minds,  and  yet,  for  a  time, 
longer  or  shorter,  lie  in  them  quiescent;  but  only  the 
more  deplorable  its  ultimate  activity." 

"  An  uncomfortable  solution ;  for,  since  that  baneful 
man  did  but  just  now  anew  drop  on  me  his  bane,  how 
shall  I  be  sure  that  my  present  exemption  from  its  effects 
will  be  lasting?" 

"  You  cannot  be  sure,  but  you  can  strive  against  it." 

"How?" 

"  By  strangling  the  least  symptom  of  distrust,  of  any 
sort,  which  hereafter,  upon  whatever  provocation,  may 
arise  in  you." 

"  I  will  do  so."  Then  added  as  in  soliloquy,  " Indeed, 
indeed,  I  was  to  blame  in  standing  passive  under  such 
influences  as  that  one-legged  man's.  My  conscience  up 
braids  me. — The  poor  negro  :  You  see  him  occasionally, 
perhaps  ?" 

11  No,- not  often  ;  though  in  a  few  days,  as  it  happens, 
my  engagements  will  call  me  to  the  neighborhood  of  his 
present  retreat ;  and,  no  doubt,  honest  Gruinea,  who  is  a 
grateful  soul,  will  come  to  see  me  there." 

"  Then  you  have  been  his  benefactor?" 


62  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  His  benefactor  ?  I  did  not  say  that.  I  have  known 
him." 

"  Take  this  mite.  Hand  it  to  Guinea  when  you  see 
him  ;  say  it  comes  from  one  who  has  full  belief  in  his 
honesty,  and  is  sincerely  sorry  for  having  indulged,  how 
ever  transiently,  in  a  contrary  thought." 

"  I  accept  the  trust.  And,  by-the-way,  since  you  are 
of  this  truly  charitable  nature,  you  will  not  turn  away 
an  appeal  in  behalf  of  the  Seminole  Widow  and  Orphan 
Asylum?" 

"  I  have  not  heard  of  that  charity." 

"  But  recently  founded." 

After  a  pause,  the  clergyman  was  irresolutely  putting 
his  hand  in  his  pocket,  when,  caught  by  something  in  his 
companion's  expression,  he  eyed  him  inquisitively,  al 
most  uneasily. 

"  Ah,  well,"  smiled  the  other  wanly,  "if  that  subtle 
bane,  we  were  speaking  of  but  just  now,  is  so  soon  be 
ginning  to  work,  in  vain  my  appeal  to  you.  Grood-by." 

"  Nay,"  not  untouched,  "  you  do  me  injustice  ;  instead 
of  indulging  present  suspicions,  I  had  rather  make 
amends  for  previous  ones.  Here  is  something  for  your 
asylum.  Not  much ;  but  every  drop  helps.  Of  course 
you  have  papers?" 

"  Of  course,"  producing  a  memorandum  book  and 
pencil.  "Let  me  take  down  name  and  amount.  We 
publish  these  names.  And  now  let  me  give  you  a  little 
history  of  our  asylum,  and  the  providential  way  in 
which  it  was  started." 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A   GENTLEMAN   WITH   GOLD  SLEEVE-BUTTONS. 

AT  an  interesting  point  of  the  narration,  and  at  the 
moment  when,  with  much  curiosity,  indeed,  urgency,  the 
narrator  was  being  particularly  questioned  upon  that 
point,  he  was,  as  it  happened,  altogether  diverted  both 
from  it  and  his  story,  by  just  then  catching  sight  of  a 
gentleman  who  had  been  standing  in  sight  from  the  be 
ginning,  but,  until  now,  as  it  seemed,  without  being 
observed  by  him. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  he,  rising,  "but  yonder  is  one 
who  I  know  will  contribute,  and  largely.  Don't  take 
it  amiss  if  I  quit  you." 

"  Go :  duty  before  all  things,"  was  the  conscientious 
reply. 

The  stranger  was  a  man  of  more  than  winsome  aspect. 
There  he  stood  apart  and  in  repose,  and  yet,  by  his  mere 
look,  lured  the  man  in  gray  from  his  story,  much  as,  by 
its  graciousness  of  bearing,  some  full-leaved  elm,  alone 
in  a  meadow,  lures  the  noon  sickleman  to  throw  down 
his  sheaves,  and  come  and  apply  for  the  alms  of  its 
shade. 

But,  considering  that  goodness  is  no  such  rare  thing 


54  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

among  men — the  world  familiarly  know  the  noun;  a 
common  one  in  every  language — it  was  curious  that 
what  so  signalized  the  stranger,  and  made  him  look  like 
a  kind  of  foreigner,  among  the  crowd  (as  to  some  it 
make  him  appear  more  or  less  unreal  in  this  portraiture), 
was  but  the  expression  of  so  prevailent  a  quality.  Such 
goodness  seemed  his,  allied  with  such  fortune,  that,  so 
far  as  his  own  personal  experience  could  have  gone, 
scarcely  could  he  have  known  ill,  physical  or  moral ; 
and  as  for  knowing  or  suspecting  the  latter  in  any  seri 
ous  degree  (supposing  such  degree  of  it  to  be),  by  obser 
vation  or  philosophy ;  for  that,  probably,  his  nature,  by 
its  opposition,  imperfectly  qualified,  or  from  it  wholly 
exempted.  For  the  rest,  he  might  have  been  five  and 
fifty,  perhaps  sixty,  but  tall,  rosy,  between  plump  and 
portly,  with  a  primy,  palmy  air,  and  for  the  time  and 
place,  not  to  hint  of  his  years,  dressed  with  a  strangely 
festive  finish  and  elegance.  The  inner-side  of  his  coat- 
skirts  was  of  white  satin,  which  might  have  looked 
especially  inappropriate,  had  it  not  seemed  less  a  bit 
of  mere  tailoring  than  something  of  an  emblem,  as  it 
were;  an  involuntary  emblem,  let  us  say,  that  what 
seemed  so  good  about  him  was  not  all  outside;  no,  the 
fine  covering  had  a  still  finer  lining.  Upon  one  hand  he 
wore  a  white  kid  glove,  but  the  other  hand,  which  was 
ungloved,  looked  hardly  less  white.  Now,  as  the  Fidele, 
like  most  steamboats,  was  upon  deck  a  little  soot-streak 
ed  here  and  there,  especially  about  the  railings,  it  was  a 
marvel  how,  under  such  circumstances,  these  hands  re 
tained  their  spotlessness.  But,  if  you  watched  them 


A      GENTLEMAN,      ETC.  55 

a  while,  you  noticed  that  they  avoided  touching  anything ; 
you  noticed,  in  short,  that  a  certain  negro  body-servant, 
whose  hands  nature  had  dyed  black,  perhaps  with  the 
same  purpose  that  millers  wear  white,  this  negro  ser 
vant's  hands  did  most  of  his  master's  handling  for  him ; 
having  to  do  with  dirt  on  his  account,  but  not  to  his 
prejudices.  But  if,  with  the  same  undefiledness  of  con 
sequences  to  himself,  a  gentleman  could  also  sin  by 
deputy,  how  shocking  would  that  be  !  But  it  is  not 
permitted  to  be  ;  and  even  if  it  were,  no  judicious  moral 
ist  would  make  proclamation  of  it. 

This  gentleman,  therefore,  there  is  reason  to  affirm, 
was  one  who,  like  the  Hebrew  governor,  knew  how  to 
keep  his  hands  clean,  and  who  never  in  his  life  happened 
to  be  run  suddenly  against  by  hurrying  house-painter, 
or  sweep  ;  in  a  word,  one  whose  very  good  luck  it  was 
to  be  a  very  good  man. 

Not  that  he  looked  as  if  he  were  a  kind  of  Wilberforce 
at  all;  that  superior  merit,  probably,  was  not  his;  no 
thing  in  his  manner  bespoke  him  righteous,  but  only 
good,  and  though  to  be  good  is  much  below  being  righte 
ous,  and  though  there  is  a  difference  between  the  two, 
yet  not,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  so  incompatible  as  that  a 
righteous  man  can  not  be  a  good  man ;  though,  converse 
ly,  in  the  pulpit  it  has  been  with  much  cogency  urged, 
that  a  merely  good  man,  that  is,  one  good  merely  by  his 
nature,  is  so  far  from  there  by  being  righteous,  that 
nothing  short  of  a  total  change  and  conversion  can  make 
him  so ;  which  is  something  which  no  honest  mind, 
well  read  in  the  history  of  righteousness,  will  care  to 


56  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN, 

deny ;  nevertheless,  since  St.  Paul  himself,  agreeing  in  a 
sense  with  the  pulpit  distinction,  though  not  altogether 
in  the  pulpit  deduction,  and  also  pretty  plainly  intima 
ting  which  of  the  two  qualities  in  question  enjoys  his 
apostolic  preference ;  I  say,  since  St.  Paul  has  so  mean 
ingly  said,  that,  "scarcely  for  a  righteous  man  will 
one  die,  yet  peradventure  for  a  good  man  some  would 
even  dare  to  die ;"  therefore,  when  we  repeat  of  this 
gentleman,  that  he  was  only  a  good  man,  whatever 
else  by  severe  censors  may  be  objected  to  him,  it  is 
still  to  be  hoped  that  his  goodness  will  not  at  least 
be  considered  criminal  in  him.  At  all  events,  no  man, 
not  even  a  righteous  man,  would  think  it  quite  right  to 
commit  this  gentleman  to  prison  for  the  crime,  extra 
ordinary  as  he  might  deem  it ;  more  especially,  as,  until 
everything  could  be  known,  there  would  be  some  chance 
that  the  gentleman  might  after  all  be  quite  as  innocent 
of  it  as  he  himself. 

It  was  pleasant  to  mark  the  good  man's  reception  of 
the  salute  of  the  righteous  man,  that  is,  the  man  in 
gray;  his  inferior,  apparently,  not  more  in  the  social 
scale  than  in  stature.  Like  the  benign  elm  again,  the 
good  man  seemed  to  wave  the  canopy  of  his  goodness 
over  that  suitor,  not  in  conceited  condescension,  but 
with  that  even  amenity  of  true  majesty,  which  can  be 
kind  to  any  one  without  stooping  to  it. 

To  the  plea  in  behalf  of  the  Seminole  widows  and 
orphans,  the  gentleman,  after  a  question  or  two  duly 
answered,  responded  by  producing  an  ample  pocket- 
book  in  the  good  old  capacious  style,  of  fine  green 


A      GENTLEMAN,      ETC.  57 

French  morocco  and  workmanship,  bound  with  silk  of 
the  same  color,  not  to  omit  bills  crisp  with  newness, 
fresh  from  the  bank,  no  muckworms'  grime  upon  them. 
Lucre  those  bills  might  be,  but  as  yet  having  been  kept 
unspotted  from  the  world,  not  of  the  filthy  sort.  Pla 
cing  now  three  of  those  virgin  bills  in  the  applicant's 
hands,  he  hoped  that  the  smallness  of  the  contribution 
would  be  pardoned  ;  to  tell  the  truth,  and  this  at  last 
accounted  for  his  toilet,  he  was  bound  but  a  short  run 
down  the  river,  to  attend,  in  a  festive  grove,  the  after 
noon  wedding  of  his  niece  :  so  did  not  carry  much  mo 
ney  with  him. 

The  other  was  about  expressing  his  thanks  when  the 
gentleman  in  his  pleasant  way  checked  him  :  the  grati 
tude  was  on  the  other  side,  To  him,  he  said,  charity 
was  in  one  sense  not  an  effort,  but  a  luxury ;  against  too 
great  indulgence  in  which  his  steward,  a  humorist,  had 
sometimes  admonished  him. 

In  some  general  talk  which  followed,  relative  to  or 
ganized  modes  of  doing  good,  the  gentleman  expressed 
his  regrets  that  so  many  benevolent  societies  as  there 
were,  here  and  there  isolated  in  the  land,  should  not  act 
in  concert  by  coming  together,  in  the  way  that  already 
in  each  society  the  individuals  composing  it  had  done, 
which  would  result,  he  thought,  in  like  advantages  upon 
a  larger  scale.  Indeed,  such  a  confederation  might,  per 
haps,  be  attended  with  as  happy  results  as  politically 
attended  that  of  the  states. 

Upon  his  hitherto  moderate  enough   companion,  this 

suggestion  had  an  effect  illustrative  in  a  sort  of  that  no- 
3* 


58  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

tion  of  Socrates,  that  the  soul  is  a  harmony ;  for  as  the 
sound  of  a  flute,  in  any  particular  key,  will,  it  is  said,  aud 
ibly  affect  the  corresponding  chord  of  any  harp  in  good 
tune,  within  hearing,  just  so  now  did  some  string  in  him 
respond,  and  with  animation. 

Which  animation,  by  the  way,  might  seem  more  or 
less  out  of  character  in  the  man  in  gray,  considering  his 
unsprightly  manner  when  first  introduced,  had  he  not 
already,  in  certain  after  colloquies,  given  proof,  in  some 
degree,  of  the  fact,  that,  with  certain  natures,  a  soberly 
continent  air  at  times,  so  far  from  arguing  emptiness  of 
stuff,  is  good  proof  it  is  there,  and  plenty  of  it,  because 
unwasted,  and  may  be  used  the  more  effectively,  too, 
when  opportunity  offers.  What  now  follows  on  the 
part  of  the  man  in  gray  will  still  further  exemplify,  per 
haps  somewhat  strikingly,  the  truth,  or  what  appears 
to  be  such,  of  this  remark. 

"  Sir,"  said  he  eagerly,  "  I  am  before  you.  A  project, 
not  dissimilar  to  yours,  was  by  me  thrown  out  at  the 
World's  Fair  in  London." 

"  World's  Fair  ?     You  there  ?     Pray  how  was  that  ?" 

"  First,  let  me—" 

"  Nay,  but  first  tell  me  what  took  you  to  the  Fair?" 

"  I  went  to  exhibit  an  invalid's  easy-chair  I  had  in 
vented." 

"  Then  you  have  not  always  been  in  the  charity  busi 
ness  ?" 

"  Is  it  not  charity  to  ease  human  suffering  ?  I  am, 
and  always  have  been,  as  I  always  will  be,  I  trust,  in 
the  charity  business,  as  you  call  it;  but  charity  is  not 


A      GENTLEMAN,      ETC.  59 

like  a  pin,  one  to  make  the  head,  and  the  other  the 
point ;  charity  is  a  work  to  which  a  good  workman  may 
be  competent  in  all  its  branches.  I  invented  my  Pro 
tean  easy-chair  in  odd  intervals  stolen  from  meals  and 
sleep." 

"  You  call  it  the  Protean  easy-chair;  pray  describe 
it." 

"  My  Protean  easy-chair  is  a  chair  so  all  over  be- 
jointed,  behinged,  and  bepadded,  everyway  so  elastic, 
springy,  and  docile  to  the  airiest  touch,  that  in  some  one 
of  its  endlessly-changeable  accommodations  of  back, 
seat,  footboard,  and  arms,  the  most  restless  body,  the 
body  most  racked,  nay,  I  had  almost  added  the  most 
tormented  conscience  must,  somehow  and  somewhere, 
find  rest.  Believing  that  I  owed  it  to  suffering  humanity 
to  make  known  such  a  chair  to  the  utmost,  I  scraped 
together  my  little  means  and  off  to  the  World's  Fair 
with  it." 

"  You  did  right.  But  your  scheme ;  how  did  you 
come  to  hit  upon  that?" 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  After  seeing  my  invention 
duly  catalogued  and  placed,  I  gave  myself  up  to  ponder 
ing  the  scene  about  me.  As  I  dwelt  upon  that  shining 
pageant  of  arts,  and  moving  concourse  of  nations,  and  re 
flected  that  here  was  the  pride  of  the  world  glorying  in 
a  glass  house,  a  sense  of  the  fragility  of  w7orldly  grandr 
eur  profoundly  impressed  me.  And  I  said  to  myself, 
I  will  see  if  this  occasion  of  vanity  cannot  supply  a  hint 
toward  a  better  profit  than  was  designed.  Let  some 
world-wide  good  to  the  world-wide  cause  be  now  done. 


60  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

In  short,  inspired  by  the  scene,  on  the  fourth  day  I  is 
sued  at  the  World's  Fair  my  prospectus  of  the  World's 
Charity." 

"  Quite  a  thought.  But,  pray  explain  it." 
"  The  World's  Charity  is  to  be  a  society  whose  mem 
bers  shall  comprise  deputies  from  every  charity  and  mis 
sion  extant ;  the  one  object  of  the  society  to  be  the  me- 
thodization  of  the  world's  benevolence ;  to  which  end, 
the  present  system  of  voluntary  and  promiscuous  con 
tribution  to  be  done  away,  and  the  Society  to  be 
empowered  by  the  various  governments  to  levy,  an 
nually,  one  grand  benevolence  tax  upon  all  mankind  ;  as 
in  Augustus  Caesar's  time,  the  whole  world  to  come  up 
to  be  taxed;  a  tax  which,  for  the  scheme  of  it,  should 
be  something  like  the  income-tax  in  England,  a  tax,  also, 
as  before  hinted,  to  be  a  consolidation-tax  of  all  possi 
ble  benevolence  taxes ;  as  in  America  here,  the  state- 
tax,  and  the  county-tax,  and  the  town-tax,  and  the 
poll-tax,  are  by  the  assessors  rolled  into  one.  This  tax, 
according  to  my  tables,  calculated  with  care,  would  re 
sult  in  the  yearly  raising  of  a  fund  little  short  of  eight 
hundred  millions ;  this  fund  to  be  annually  applied  to 
such  objects,  and  in  such  modes,  as  the  various  charities 
and  missions,  in  general  congress  represented,  might 
decree  ;  whereby,  in  fourteen  years,  as  I  estimate,  there 
would  have  been  devoted  to  good  works  the  sum  of 
eleven  thousand  two  hundred  millions;  which  would 
warrant  the  dissolution  of  the  society,  as  that  fund  judi 
ciously  expended,  not  a  pauper  or  heathen  could  remain 
the  round  world  over." 


A      GENTLEMAN,      ETC.  Gl 

"  Eleven  thousand  two  hundred  millions  !  And  all 
by  passing  round  a  hat,  as  it  were." 

"  Yes,  I  am  no  Fourier,  the  projector  of  an  impossible 
scheme,  but  a  philanthropist  and  a  financier  setting  forth 
a  philanthropy  and  a  finance  which  are  practicable." 

"  Practicable?" 

"Yes.  Eleven  thousand  two  hundred  millions;  it 
will  frighten  none  but  a  retail  philanthropist.  What  is 
it  but  eight  hundred  millions  for  each  of  fourteen  years  ? 
Now  eight  hundred  millions — what  is  that,  to  average 
it,  but  one  little  dollar  a  head  for  the  population  of  the 
planet  ?  And  who  will  refuse,  what  Turk  or  Dyak 
even,  his  own  little  dollar  for  sweet  charity's  sake? 
Eight  hundred  millions !  More  than  that  sum  is  yearly 
expended  by  mankind,  not  only  in  vanities,  but  mise 
ries.  Consider  that  bloody  spendthrift,  War.  And  are 
mankind  so  stupid,  so  wicked,  that,  upon  the  demonstra 
tion  of  these  things  they  will  not,  amending  their  ways, 
devote  their  superfluities  to  blessing  the  world  instead 
of  cursing  it?  Eight  hundred  millions!  They  have 
not  to  make  it,  it  is  theirs  already ;  they  have  but  to 
direct  it  from  ill  to  good.  And  to  this,  scarce  a  self- 
denial  is  demanded.  Actually,  they  would  not  in  the 
mass  be  one  farthing  the  poorer  for  it ;  as  certainly  would 
they  be  all  the  better  and  happier.  Don't  you  see  ? 
But  admit,  as  you  must,  that  mankind  is  not  mad,  and 
my  project  is  practicable.  For,  what  creature  but  a 
madman  would  not  rather  do  good  than  ill,  when  it  is 
plain  that,  good  or  ill,  it  must  return  upon  himself?" 

"  Your  sort  of  reasoning,"  said  the  good  gentleman. 


62  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

adjusting  his  gold  sleeve-buttons,  "  seems  all  reasonable 
enough,  but  with  mankind  it  wont  do." 

"  Then  mankind  are  not  reasoning  beings,  if  reason 
wont  do  with  them." 

"  That  is  not  to  the  purpose.  By-the-way,  from  the 
manner  in  which  you  alluded  to  the  world's  census,  it 
would  appear  that,  according  to  your  world-wide  scheme, 
the  pauper  not  less  than  the  nabob  is  to  contribute  to 
the  relief  of  pauperism,  and  the  heathen  not  less  than 
the  Christian  to  the  conversion  of  heathenism.  How  is 
that?" 

"  Why,  that — pardon  me — is  quibbling.  Now,  no 
philanthropist  likes  to  be  opposed  with  quibbling." 

"  Well,  I  won't  quibble  any  more.  But,  after  all,  if 
I  understand  your  project,  there  is  little  specially  new 
in  it,  further  than  the  magnifying  of  means  now  in 
operation." 

"  Magnifying  and  energizing.  For  one  thing,  mis 
sions  I  would  thoroughly  reform.  Missions  I  would 
quicken  with  the  Wall  street  spirit." 

"The  Wall  street  spirit?" 

"  Yes  ;  for  if,  confessedly,  certain  spiritual  ends  are  to 
be  gained  but  through  the  auxiliary  agency  of  worldly 
means,  then,  to  the  surer  gaining  of  such  spiritual  ends, 
the  example  of  worldly  policy  in  worldly  projects  should 
not  by  spiritual  projectors  be  slighted.  In  brief,  the 
conversion  of  the  heathen,  so  far,  at  least,  as  depending 
on  human  effort,  would,  by  the  world's  charity,  be  let 
out  on  contract.  So  much  by  bid  for  converting  India, 
so  much  for  Borneo,  so  much  for  Africa.  Competition 


A      G  E  X  T  L  E  M  A  N,      ETC.  63 

allowed,  stimulus  would  be  given.  There  would  be  no 
lethargy  of  monopoly.  We  should  have  no  mission- 
house  or  tract-house  of  which  slanderers  could,  with  any 
plausibility,  say  that  it  had  degenerated  in  its  clerkships 
into  a  sort  of  custom-house.  But  the  main  point  is  the 
Archimedean  money-power  that  would  be  brought  to 
bear." 

"  You  mean  the  eight  hundred  million  power?" 

"  Yes.  You  see,  this  doing  good  to  the  world  by 
driblets  amounts  to  just  nothing.  I  am  for  doing  good 
to  the  world  with  a  will.  I  am  for  doing  good  to  the 
world  once  for  all  and  having  done  with  it.  Do  but 
think,  my  dear  sir,  of  the  eddies  and  maelstroms  of 
pagans  in  China.  People  here  have  no  conception  of 
it.  Of  a  frosty  morning  in  Hong  Kong,  pauper  pagans 
are  found  dead  in  the  streets  like  so  many  nipped  peas 
in  a  bin  of  peas.  To  be  an  immortal  being  in  China  is 
no  more  distinction  than  to  be  a  snow-flake  in  a  snow- 
squall.  What  are  a  score  or  two  of  missionaries  to 
such  a  people?  A  pinch  of  snuff  to  the  kraken.  I  am 
for  sending  ten  thousand  missionaries  in  a  body  and 
converting  the  Chinese  en  masse  within  six  months  of 
the  debarkation.  The  thing  is  then  done,  and  turn  to 
something  else." 

"  I  fear  you  are  too  enthusiastic." 

"A  philanthropist  is  necessarily  an  enthusiast;  for 
without  enthusiasm  what  was  ever  achieved  but  com 
monplace?  But  again:  consider  the  poor  in  London. 
To  that  mob  of  misery,  what  is  a  joint  here  and  a  loaf 
there?  I  am  for  voting  to  them  twenty  thousand  bul- 


64  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

locks  and  one 'hundred  thousand  barrels  of  flour  to  begin 
with.  They  are  then  comforted,  and  no  more  hunger 
for  one  while  among  the  poor  of  London.  And  so  all 
round." 

"Sharing  the  character  of  your  general  project,  these 
things,  I  take  it,  are  rather  examples  of  wonders  that 
were  to  be  wished,  than  wonders  that  will  happen." 

"  And  is  the  age  of  wonders  passed  ?  Is  the  world 
too  old  ?  Is  it  barren  ?  Think  of  Sarah." 

"  Then  I  am  Abraham  reviling  the  angel  (with  a 
smile).  But  still,  as  to  your  design  at  large,  there 
seems  a  certain  audacity." 

"  But  if  to  the  audacity  of  the  design  there  be  brought 
a  commensurate  circumspectness  of  execution,  how 
then  ?" 

"Why,  do  you  really  believe  that  your  world's 
charity  will  ever  go  into  operation  ?" 

"  I  have  confidence  that  it  will." 

"  But  may  you  not  be  over-confident  ?" 

"  For  a  Christian  to  talk  so  !" 

"  But  tbink  of  the  obstacles  !" 

"  Obstacles?  I  have  confidence  tojemove  obstacles, 
though  mountains.  Yes,  confidence  in  the  world's 
charity  to  that  degree,  that,  as  no  better  person  offers  to 
supply  the  place,  I  have  nominated  myself  provisional 
treasurer,  and  will  be  happy  to  receive  subscriptions,  for 
the  present  to  be  devoted  to  striking  off  a  million  more 
of  my  prospectuses." 

The  talk  went  on  ;  the  man  in  gray  revealed  a  spirit 
of  benevolence  which,  mindful  of  the  millennial  promise, 


A      GENTLEMAN,      ETC.  65 

had  gone  abroad  over  all  the  countries  of  the  globe, 
much  as  the  diligent  spirit  of  the  husbandman,  stirred 
by  forethought  of  the  coming  seed-time,  leads  him,  in 
March  reveries  at  his  fireside,  over  every  field  of  his 
farm.  The  master  chord  of  the  man  in  gray  had  been 
touched,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  cease 
vibrating.  A  not  unsilvery  tongue,  too,  was  his,  with 
gestures  that  were  a  Pentecost  of  added  ones,  and  per 
suasiveness  before  which  granite  hearts  might  crumble 
into  gravel. 

Strange,  therefore,  how  his  auditor,  so  singularly 
good-hearted  as  he  seemed,  remained  proof  to  such  elo 
quence  ;  though  not,  as  it  turned  out,  to  such  pleadings. 
For,  after  listening  a  while  longer  with  pleasant 
incredulity,  presently,  as  the  boat  touched  his  place  of 
destination,  the  gentleman,  with  a  look  half  humor,  half 
pity,  put  another  bank-note  into  his  hands ;  charitable 
to  the  last,  if  only  to  the  dreams  of  enthusiasm. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A   CHAKITABLE   LADY. 

IF  a  drunkard  in  a  sober  fit  is  the  dullest  of  mortals, 
an  enthusiast  in  a  reason-fit  is  not  the  most  lively. 
And  this,  without  prejudice  to  his  greatly  improved 
understanding  ;  for,  if  his  elation  was  the  height  of  his 
madness,  his  despondency  is  but  the  extreme  of  his  san 
ity.  Something  thus  now,  to  all  appearance,  with  the 
man  in  gray.  Society  his  stimulus,  loneliness  was  his 
lethargy.  Loneliness,  like  the  sea-breeze,  blowing  off 
from  a  thousand  leagues  of  blankness,  he  did  not  find, 
as  veteran  solitaires  do,  if  anything,  too  bracing.  In 
short,  left  to  himself,  with  none  to  charm  forth  his 
latent  lymphatic,  he  insensibly  resumes  his  original  air, 
a  quiescent  one,  blended  of  sad  humility  and  demure- 
ness. 

Ere  long  he  goes  laggingly  into  the  ladies'  saloon,  as 
in  spiritless  quest  of  somebody ;  but,  after  some  disap 
pointed  glances  about  him,  seats  himself  upon  a  sofa 
with  an  air  of  melancholy  exhaustion  and  depression. 

At  the  sofa's  further  end  sits  a  plump  and  pleasant 
person,  whose  aspect  seems  to  hint  that,  if  she  have  any 
weak  point,  it  must  be  anything  rather  than  her  excel- 


A      CHARITABLE      LADY.  67 

lent  heart  From  her  twilight  dress,  neither  dawn  nor 
dark,  apparently  she  is  a  widow  just  breaking  the  chry 
salis  of  her  mourning.  A  small  gilt  testament  is  in  her 
hand,  which  she  has  just  been  reading.  Half-relinquish 
ed,  she  holds  the  book  in  reverie,  her  finger  inserted  at 
the  xiii.  of  1st  Corinthians,  to  which  chapter  possibly 
her  attention  might  have  recently  been  turned,  by  wit 
nessing  the  scene  of  the  monitory  mute  and  his  slate. 

The  sacred  page  no  longer  meets  her  eye ;  but,  as  at 
evening,  when  for  a  time  the  western  hills  shine  on 
though  the  sun  be  set,  her  thoughtful  face  retains  its 
tenderness  though  the  teacher  is  forgotten. 

Meantime,  the  expression  of  the  stranger  is  such  as 
ere  long  to  attract  her  glance.  "But  no  responsive  one. 
Presently,  in  her  somewhat  inquisitive  survey,  her 
volume  drops.  It  is  restored.  No  encroaching  polite 
ness  in  the  act,  but  kindness,  unadorned.  The  eyes  of 
the  lady  sparkle.  Evidently,  she  is  not  now  unprepos 
sessed.  Soon,  bending  over,  in  a  low,  sad  tone,  full  of 
deference,  the  stranger  breathes,  "  Madam,  pardon  my 
freedom,  but  there  is  something  in  that  face  which 
strangely  draws  me.  May  I  ask,  are  you  a  sister  of  the 
Church  ?" 

"  Why— really— you— " 

In  concern  for  her  embarrassment,  he  hastens  to  re 
lieve  it,  but,  without  seeming  so  to  do.  "  It  is  very 
solitary  for  a  brother  here,"  eying  the  showy  ladies 
brocaded  in  the  background,  "  I  find  none  to  mingle 
souls  with.  It  may  be  wrong — I  know  it  is — but  I  can 
not  force  myself  to  be  easy  with  the  people  of  the  world. 


68  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

I  prefer  the  company,  however  silent,  of  a  brother  or 
sister  in  good  standing.  By  the  way,  madam,  may  I  ask 
if  you  have  confidence?" 

"  Really,  sir — why,  sir — really — I — " 

"  Could  you  put  confidence  in  me  for  instance  ?" 

"  Really,  sir — as  much — I  mean,  as  one  may  wisely 
put  in  a — a — stranger,  an  entire  stranger,  I  had  almost 
said,"  rejoined  the  lady,  hardly  yet  at  ease  in  her  affa 
bility,  drawing  aside  a  little  in  body,  while  at  the  same 
time  her  heart  might  have  been  drawn  as  far  the  other 
way.  A  natural  struggle  between  charity  and  pru 
dence. 

"Entire  stranger!"  with  a  sigh.  "Ah,  who  would 
be  a  stranger  ?  In  vain,  I  wander ;  no  one  will  have 
confidence  in  me." 

"  You  interest  me,"  said  the  good  lady,  in  mild  sur 
prise.  "  Can  I  any  way  befriend  you  ?" 

"No  one  can  befriend  me,  who  has  not  confidence." 

"  But  I — I  have — at  least  to  that  degree — I  mean 
that—" 

"  Nay,  nay,  you  have  none — none  at  all.  Pardon,  I 
see  it.  No  confidence.  Fool,  fond  fool  that  I  am  to 
seek  it !" 

"  You  are  unjust,  sir,"  rejoins  the  good  lady  with 
heightened  interest;  "but  it  may  be  that  something 
untoward  in  your  experiences  has  unduly  biased  you. 
Not  that  I  would  cast  reflections.  Believe  me,  I — yes, 
yes — I  may  say — that — that — " 

"  That  you  have  confidence  ?  Prove  it.  Let  me  have 
twenty  dollars." 


A      CHARITABLE      LADY.  69 

"  Twenty  dollars  !" 

"  There,  I  told  you,  madam,  you  had  no  confidence." 

The  lady  was,  in  an  extraordinary  way,  touched.  She 
sat  in  a  sort  of  restless  torment,  knowing  not  which  way 
to  turn.  She  began  twenty  different  sentences,  and  left 
off  at  the  first  syllable  of  each.  At  last,  in  desperation, 
she  hurried  out,  "  Tell  me,  sir,  for  what  you  want  the 
twenty  dollars  ?" 

"  And  did  I  not — "  then  glancing  at  her  half-mourn 
ing,  "  for  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.  I  am  traveling 
agent  of  the  Widow  and  Orphan  Asylum,  recently 
founded  among  the  Seminoles." 

"  And  why  did  you  not  tell  me  your  object  before?" 
As  not  a  little  relieved.  "  Poor  souls — Indians,  too — 
those  cruelly-used  Indians.  Here,  here  ;  how  could  I 
hesitate.  I  am  so  sorry  it  is  no  more." 

"  Grieve  not  for  that,  madam,"  rising  and  folding  up 
the  bank-notes.  "  This  is  an  inconsiderable  sum,  I  ad 
mit,  but,"  taking  out  his  pencil  and  book,  "  though  I 
here  but  register  the  amount,  there  is  another  register, 
where  is  set  down  the  motive.  Good-bye ;  you  have 
confidence.  Yea,  you  can  say  to  me  as  the  apostle  said 
to  the  Corinthians,  *  I  rejoice  that  I  have  confidence  in 
you  in  all  things.'  " 


CHAPTER    IX. 

TWO    BUSINESS   MEN    TRANSACT   A   LITTLE    BUSINESS. 

— "Pray,  sir,  have  you  seen  a  gentleman  with  a  weed 
hereabouts,  rather  a  saddish  gentleman  ?  Strange  where 
he  can  have  gone  to.  I  was  talking  with  him  not 
twenty  minutes  since." 

By  a  brisk,  ruddy-cheeked  man  in  a  tasseled  tra 
veling-cap,  carrying  under  his  arm  a  ledger-like  volume, 
the  above  words  were  addressed  to  the  collegian  before 
introduced,  suddenly  accosted  by  the  rail  to  which  not 
long  after  his  retreat,  as  in  a  previous  chapter  recount 
ed,  he  had  returned,  and  there  remained. 

"  Have  you  seen  him,  sir?" 

Rallied  from  his  apparent  diffidence  by  the  genial 
jauntiness  of  the  stranger,  the  youth  answered  with  un 
wonted  promptitude  :  "  Yes,  a  person  with  a  weed  was 
here  not  very  long  ago." 

"Saddish?" 

"  Yes,  and  a  little  cracked,  too,  I  should  say." 

"  Ifc  was  he.  Misfortune,  I  fear,  has  disturbed  his 
brain.  Now  quick,  which  way  did  he  go  ?" 

"  Why  just  in  the  direction  from  which  you  came, 
the  gangway  yonder." 

"  Did  he  ?     Then  the  man  in  the  gray  coat,  whom  I 


TWO      BUSINESS      MEN,      ETC.  71 

just  met,  said  right:  he  must  have  gone  ashore.  How 
unlucky!" 

He  stood  vexedly  twitching  at  his  cap-tassel,  which 
fell  over  by  his  whisker,  and  continued :  "  Well,  I  am  very 
sorry.  In  fact,  I  had  something  for  him  here." — Then 
drawing  nearer,  "you  see,  he  applied  to  me  for  relief, 
no,  I  do  him  injustice,  not  that,  but  he  began  to  intimate, 
you  understand.  Well,  being  very  busy  just  then,  I 
declined  ;  quite  rudely,  too,  in  a  cold,  morose,  unfeeling 
way,  I  fear.  At  all  events,  not  three  minutes  afterwards 
I  felt  self-reproach,  with  a  kind  of  prompting,  very  per 
emptory,  to  deliver  over  into  that  unfortunate  man's 
hands  a  ten-dollar  bill.  You  smile.  Yes,  it  may  be 
superstition,  but  I  can't  help  it;  I  have  my  weak  side, 
thank  God.  Then  again,"  he  rapidly  went  on,  "  we 
have  been  so  very  prosperous  lately  in  our  affairs — by 
we,  I  mean  the  Black  Eapids  Coal  Company — that,  really, 
out  of  my  abundance,  associative  and  individual,  it  is 
but  fair  that  a  charitable  investment  or  two  should  be 
made,  don't  you  think  so?" 

"  Sir,"  said  the  collegian  without  the  least  embarrass 
ment,  "  do  I  understand  that  you  are  officially  connected 
with  the  Black  Rapids  Coal  Company  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  happen  to  be  president  and  transfer-agent." 

"You  are?" 

"Yes,  but  what  is  it  to  you?  You  don't  want  to 
invest?" 

"  Why,  do  you  sell  the  stock  ?" 

"Some  might  be  bought,  perhaps;  but  why  do  you 
ask?  you  don't  want  to  invest?" 


72  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"But  supposing  I  did,"  with  cool  self-collectedness, 
"could  you  do  up  the  thing  for  me,  and  here?" 

"  Bless  ray  soul,"  gazing  at  him  in  amaze,  "  really, 
you  are  quite  a  business  man.  Positively,  I  feel  afraid 
of  you." 

"  Oh,  no  need  of  that. — You  could  sell  me  some  of 
that  stock,  then?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  don't  know.  To  be  sure,  there  are 
a  few  shares  under  peculiar  circumstances  bought  in  by 
the  Company ;  but  it  would  hardly  be  the  thing  to 
convert  this  boat  into  the  Company's  office.  I  think 
you  had  better  defer  investing.  So,"  with  an  indifferent 
air,  "you  have  seen  the  uufortunate  man  I  spoke  of?" 

"Let  the  unfortunate  man  go  his  ways. — What  is 
that  large  book  you  have  with  you  ?" 

"  My  transfer-book.  I  am  subpoenaed  with  it  to  court." 

"Black  Kapids  Coal  Company,"  obliquely  reading 
the  gilt  inscription  on  the  back;  "  I  have  heard  much  of 
it.  Pray  do  you  happen  to  have  with  you  any  state 
ment  of  the  condition  of  your  company." 

"  A  statement  has  lately  been  printed." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  am  naturally  inquisitive.  Have 
you  a  copy  with  you?" 

"  I  tell  you  again,  I  do  not  think  that  it  would  be 
suitable  to  convert  this  boat  into  the  Company's  office. 
— That  unfortunate  man,  did  you  relieve  him  at  all?" 

"  Let  the  unfortunate  man  relieve  himself. — Hand 
me  the  statement." 

"  Well,  you  are  such  a  business-man,  I  can  hardly 
deny  you.  Here,"  handing  a  small,  printed  pamphlet. 


TWO      BUSINESS      MEN,      ETC.  73 

The  youth  turned  it  over  sagely. 

"I  hate  a  suspicious  man,"  said  the  other,  observing 
him ;  "  but  I  must  say  I  like  to  see  a  cautious  one." 

"  I  can  gratify  you  there,"  languidly  returning  the 
pamphlet ;  "for,  as  I  said  before,  I  am  naturally  inqui 
sitive  ;  I  am  also  circumspect.  No  appearances  can  de 
ceive  me.  Your  statement,"  he  added  "  tells  a  very  fine 
story ;  but  pray,  was  not  your  stock  a  little  heavy 
awhile  ago?  downward  tendency?  Sort  of  low  spirits 
among  holders  on  the  subject  of  that  stock?" 

"  Yes,  there  was  a  depression.  But  how  came  it  ? 
who  devised  it?  The  'bears,'  sir.  The  depression  of 
our  stock  was  solely  owing  to  the  growling,  the  hypo 
critical  growling,  of  the  bears." 

"  How,  hypocritical  ?" 

"  Why,  the  most  monstrous  of  all  hypocrites  are  these 
bears  :  hypocrites  by  inversion  ;  hypocrites  in  the  simu 
lation  of  things  dark  instead  of  bright ;  souls  that  thrive, 
less  upon  depression,  than  the  fiction  of  depression; 
professors  of  the  wicked  art  of  manufacturing  depres 
sions  ;  spurious  Jeremiahs ;  sham  Heraclituses,  who,  the 
lugubrious  day  done,  return,  like  sham  Lazaruses  among 
the  beggars,  to  make  merry  over  the  gains  got  by  their 
pretended  sore  heads — scoundrelly  bears  !" 

"  You  are  warm  against  these  bears  ?" 

"-If  I  am,  it  is  less  from  the  remembrance  of  their 
stratagems  as  to  our  stock,  than  from  the  persuasion 
that  these  same  destroyers  of  confidence,  and  gloomy 
philosophers  of  the  stock-market,  though  false  in  them 
selves,  are  yet  true  types  of  most  destroyers  of  con- 
4 


74  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

fidence  and  gloomy  philosophers,  the  world  over.  Fel 
lows  who,  whether  in  stocks,-  politics,  bread-stuffs, 
morals,  metaphysics,  religion — be  it  what  it  may — 
trump  up  their  black  panics  in  the  naturally-quiet 
brightness,  solely  with  a  view  to  some  sort  of  covert 
advantage.  That  corpse  of  calamity  which  the  gloomy 
philosopher  parades,  is  but  his  Good-Enough-Mor 
gan." 

"I  rather  like  that,"  knowingly  drawled  the  youth. 
"  I  fancy  these  gloomy  souls  as  little  as  the  next  one. 
Sitting  on  my  sofa  after  a  champagne  dinner,  smoking 
my  plantation  cigar,  if  a  gloomy  fellow  come  to  me — 
what  a  bore !" 

"You  tell  him  it's  all  stuff,  don't  you?" 

"  I  tell  him  it  ain't  natural.  I  say  to  him,  you  are 
happy  enough,  and  you  know  it ;  and  everybody  else  is 
as  happy  as  you,  and  you  know  that,  too  ;  and  we  shall 
all  be  happy  after  we  are  no  more,  and  you  know  that, 
too  ;  but  no,  still  you  must  have  your  sulk." 

"And  do  you  know  whence  this  sort  of  fellow  gets 
his  sulk  ?  not  from  life  ;  for  he's  often  too  much  of  a 
recluse,  or  else  too  young  to  have  seen  anything  of  it. 
No,  he  gets  it  from  some  of  those  old  plays  he  sees  on 
the  stage,  or  some  of  those  old  books  he  finds  up  in 
garrets.  Ten  to  one,  he  has  lugged  home  from  auction 
a  musty  old  Seneca,  and  sets  about  stuffing  himself  with 
that  stale  old  hay  ;  and,  thereupon,  thinks  it  looks  wise 
and  antique  to  be  a  croaker,  thinks  it's  taking  a  stand- 
way  above  his  kind.'1 

"  Just  so,"  assented  the  youth.  "I've  lived  some,  and 


TWO      BUSINESS      MEN,      ETC.  75 

seen  a  good  many  such  ravens  at  second  hand.  By  the 
way,  strange  how  that  man  with  the  weed,  you  were  in 
quiring  for,  seemed  to  take  me  for  some  soft  sentiment 
alist,  only  because  I  kept  quiet,  and  thought,  because 
I  had  a  copy  of  Tacitus  with  me,  that  I  was  reading  him 
for  his  gloom,  instead  of  his  gossip.  But  I  let  him  talk. 
And,  indeed,  by  my  manner  humored  him." 

"  You  shouldn't  have  done  that,  now.  Unfortunate 
man,  you  must  have  made  quite  a  fool  of  him." 

"  His  own  fault  if  I  did.  But  I  like  prosperous 
fellows,  comfortable  fellows ;  fellows  that  talk  comfort 
ably  and  prosperously,  like  you.  Such  fellows  are 
generally  honest.  And,  I  say  now,  I  happen  to  have  a 
superfluity  in  my  pocket,  and  I'll  just — " 

" — Act  the  part  of  a  brother  to  that  unfortunate 
man?" 

"Let  the  unfortunate  man  be  his  own  brother. 
What  are  you  dragging  him  in  for  all  the  time?  One 
would  think  you  didn't  care  to  register  any  transfers, 
or  dispose  of  any  stock — mind  running  on  something 
else.  I  say  I  will  invest." 

"  Stay,  stay,  here  come  some  uproarious  fellows — this 
way,  this  way." 

And  with  off-handed  politeness  the  man  with  the 
book  escorted  his  companion  into  a  private  little  haven 
removed  from  the  brawling  swells  without. 

Business  transacted,  the  two  came  forth,  and  walked 
the  deck. 

"Now  tell  me,  sir,"  said  he  with  the  book,  "how 
comes  it  that  a  young  gentleman  like  you,  a  sedate  stu- 


76  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

dent  at  the  first  appearance,  should  dabble  in  stocks  and 
that  sort  of  thing?" 

11  There  are  certain  sophomorean  errors  in  the  world," 
drawled  the  sophomore,  deliberately  adjusting  his  shirt- 
collar,  "  not  the  least  of  which  is  the  popular  notion 
touching  the  nature  of  the  modern  scholar,  and  the  na 
ture  of  the  modern  scholastic  sedateness." 

"So  it  seems,  so  it  seems.  Really,  this  is  quite  a 
new  leaf  in  my  experience." 

"Experience,  sir,"  originally  observed  the  sophomore, 
"  is  the  only  teacher." 

"  Hence  am  I  your  pupil ;  for  it's  only  when  experi 
ence  speaks,  that  I  can  endure  to  listen  to  specula 
tion." 

"  My  speculations,  sir,"  dryly  drawing  himself  up, 
"  have  been  chiefly  governed  by  the  maxim  of  Lord 
Bacon ;  I  speculate  in  those  philosophies  which  come 
home  to  my  business  and  bosom — pray,  do  you  know  of 
any  other  good  stocks?" 

"  You  wouldn't  like  to  be  concerned  in  the  New  Je 
rusalem,  would  you?" 

"  New  Jerusalem  ?" 

"  Yes,  the  new  and  thriving  city,  so  called,  in  northern 
Minnescrta.  It  was  originally  founded  by  certain  fugi 
tive  Mormons.  Hence  the  name.  It  stands  on  the 
Mississippi.  Here,  here  is  the  map,"  producing  a  roll. 
"  There — there,  you  see  are  the  public  buildings — here 
the  landing — there  the  park — -yonder  the  botanic  gar 
dens — and  this,  this  little  dot  here,  is  a  perpetual  fount 
ain,  you  understand.  You  observe  there  are  twenty 


TWO      BUSINESS      MEN,      ETC.  77 

asterisks.  Those  are  for  the  lyceums.  They  have  lig- 
num-vitse  rostrums." 

"And  are  all  these  buildings  now  standing?" 

"  All  standing — bona  fide." 

"  These  marginal  squares  here,  are  they  the  water- 
lots  ?" 

"  Water-lots  in  the  city  of  New  Jerusalem  ?  All  terra 
firma — you  don't  seem  to  care  about  investing,  though?" 

"  Hardly  think  I  should  read  my  title  clear,  as  the 
law  students  say,"  yawned  the  collegian. 

"  Prudent — you  are  prudent.  Don't  know  that  you  are 
wholly  out,  either.  At  any  rate,  I  would  rather  have 
one  of  your  shares  of  coal  stock  than  two  of  this  other. 
Still,  considering  that  the  first  settlement  was  by  two 
fugitives,  who  had  swum  over  naked  from  the  opposite 
shore — it's  a  surprising  place.  It  is,  bona  fide. — But 
dear  me,  I  must  go.  Oh,  if  by  possibility  you  should 
come  across  that  unfortunate  man — " 

"  —  In  that  case,"  with  drawling  impatience,  "I 
will  send  for  the  steward,  and  have  him  and  his  mis 
fortunes  consigned  overboard." 

"  Ha  ha  ! — now  were  some  gloomy  philosopher  here, 
some  theological  bear,  forever  taking  occasion  to  growl 
down  the  stock  of  human  nature  (with  ulterior  views, 
d'ye  see,  to  a  fat  benefice  in  the  the  gift  of  the  worship 
ers  of  Ariamius),  he  would  pronounce  that  the  sign  of  a 
hardening  heart  and  a  softening  brain.  Yes,  that  would 
be  his  sinister  construction.  But  it's  nothing  more  than 
the  oddity  of  a  genial  humor — genial  but  dry.  Confess 
it.  Good-bye." 


CHAPTER    X. 

IN  THE   CABIN. 

STOOLS,  settees,  sofas,  divans,  ottomans ;  occupying 
them  are  clusters  of  men,  old  and  young,  wise  and  sim 
ple  ;  in  their  hands  are  cards  spotted  with  diamonds, 
spades,  clubs,  hearts;  the  favorite  games  are  whist, 
cribbage,  and  brag.  Lounging  in  arm-chairs  or  saun 
tering  among  the  marble-topped  tables,  amused  with 
the  scene,  are  the  comparatively  few,  who,  instead  of 
having  hands  in  the  games,  for  the  most  part  keep  their 
hands  in  their  pockets.  These  may  be  the  philo- 
sophes.  But  here  and  there,  with  a  curious  expression, 
one  is  reading  a  small  sort  of  handbill  of  anonymous 
poetry,  rather  wordily  entitled : — 

"ODE 
ON   THE   INTIMATIONS 

OF 

DISTRUST    IN   MAN, 

UNWILLINGLY   INFERRED    FROM   REPEATED    REPULSES, 

IN    DISINTERESTED    ENDEAVORS 

TO   PROCURE   HIS 

CONFIDENCE." 

On  the  floor  are  many  copies,  looking  as  if  fluttered 
down  from  a  balloon.  The  way  they  came  there  was 
this  :  A  somewhat  elderly  person,  in  the  quaker  dress, 


IN      THE      CABIN.  79 

had  quietly  passed  through  the  cabin,  and,  much  in  the 
manner  of  those  railway  book-peddlers  who  precede 
their  proffers  of  sale  by  a  distribution  of  puffs,  direct  or 
indirect,  of  the  volumes  to  follow,  had,  without  speak 
ing,  handed  about  the  odes,  which,  for  the  most  part, 
after  a  cursory  glance,  had  been  disrespectfully  tossed 
aside,  as  no  doubt,  the  moonstruck  production  of  some 
wandering  rhapsodist. 

In  due  time,  book  under  arm,  in  trips  the  ruddy  man 
with  the  traveling-cap,  who,  lightly  moving  to  and  fro, 
looks  animatedly  about  him,  with  a  yearning  sort  of 
gratulatory  affinity  and  longing,  expressive  of  the  very 
soul  of  sociality ;  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Oh,  boys,  would 
that  I  were  personally  acquainted  with  each  mother's 
son  of  you,  since  what  a  sweet  world,  to  make  sweet 
acquaintance  in,  is  ours,  my  brothers ;  yea,  and  what 
dear,  happy  dogs  are  wye  all !" 

And  just  as  if  he  had  really  warbled  it  forth,  he  makes 
fraternally  up  to  one  lounging  stranger  or  another,  ex 
changing  with  him  some  pleasant  remark. 

"  Pray,  what  have  you  there?"  he  asked  of  one  newly 
accosted,  a  little,  dried-up  man,  who  looked  as  if  he 
never  dined. 

"A  little  ode,  rather  queer,  too,"  was  the  reply,  "  of 
the  same  sort  you  see  strewn  on  the  floor  here." 

"  I  did  not  observe  them.  Let  me  see  ;"  picking 
one  up  and  looking  it  over.  "  Well  now,  this  is  pretty ; 
plaintive,  especially  the  opening  : — 

'  Alas  for  man,  lie  hath  small  sense 
Of  genial  trust  and  confidence.' 


80  THE      CONFIDENCE  -MAN. 

— If  it  be  so,  alas  for  him,  indeed.  Runs  off  very 
smoothly,  sir.  Beautiful  pathos.  But  do  you  think  the 
sentiment  just  ?" 

"As  to  that,"  said  ,the  little  dried-up  man,  "  I  think 
it  a  kind  of  queer  thing  altogether,  and  yet  I  am  al 
most  ashamed  to  add,  it  really  has  set  me  to  thinking  ; 
yes  and  to  feeling.  Just  now,-  somehow,  I  feel  as  it 
were  trustful  and  genial.  I  don't  know  that  ever  I  felt 
so  much  so  before.  I  am  naturally  numb  in  my  sensi 
bilities  ;  but  this  ode,  in  its  way,  works  on  my  numb 
ness  not  unlike  a  sermon,  which,  by  lamenting  over  my 
lying  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  thereby  stirs  me  up  to 
be  all  alive  in  well-doing." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,  and  hope  you  will  do  well,  as 
the  doctors  say.  But  who  snowed  the  odes  about 
here?" 

"  I  cannot  say  ;  I  have  not  been  here  long." 

"  Wasn't  an  angel,  was  it  ?  Come,  you  say  you  feel 
genial,  let  us  do  as  the  rest,  and  have  cards." 

"  Thank  you,  I  never  play  cards." 

"A  bottle  of  wine?" 

"  Thank  you,  I  never  drink  wine." 

"  Cigars  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  I  never  smoke  cigars." 

"  Tell  stories  ?" 

"  To  speak  truly,  I  hardly  think  I  know  one  worth 
telling." 

"  Seems  to  me,  then,  this  geniality  you  say  you  feel 
waked  in  you,  is  as  water-power  in  a  land  without 
mills.  Come,  you  had  better  take  a  genial  hand  at  the 


INTHECABIN.  81 

cards.  To  begin,  we  will  play  for  as  small  a  sum  as 
you  please  ;  just  enough  to  make  it  interesting." 

"Indeed,  you  must  excuse  me.  Somehow  I  distrust 
cards." 

"  What,  distrust  cards?  Genial  cards?  Then  for 
once  I  join  with  our  sad  Philomel  here  : — 

*  Alas  for  man,  he  hath  small  sense 
Of  genial  trust  and  confidence.' 

Good-bye !" 

Sauntering  and  chatting  here  and  there,  again,  he 
with  the  book  at  length  seems  fatigued,  looks  round 
for  a  seat,  and  spying  a  partly-vacant  settee  drawn  up 
against  the  side,  drops  down  there ;  soon,  like  his 
chance  neighbor,  who  happens  to  be  the  good  merchant, 
becoming  not  a  little  interested  in  the  scene  more  im 
mediately  before  him ;  a  party  at  whist ;  two  cream- 
faced,  giddy,  unpolished  youths,  the  one  in  a  red  cravat, 
the  other  in  a  green,  opposed  to  two  bland,  grave, 
handsome,  self-possessed  men  of  middle  age,  decorously 
dressed  in  a  sort  of  professional  black,  and  apparently 
doctors  of  some  eminence  in  the  civil  law. 

By-and-by,  after  a  preliminary  scanning  of  the  new 
comer  next  him  the  good  merchant,  sideways  leaning 
over,  whispers  behind  a-  crumpled  copy  of  the  Ode 
which  he  holds  :  "  Sir,  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  those 
two,  do  you?" 

"  Hardly,"  was  the  whispered  reply;  "  those  colored 
cravats  are  not  in  the  best  taste,  at  least  not  to  mine  ; 
but  my  taste  is  no  rule  for  all." 

"  You  mistake  ;  I  mean   the  other  two,  and  I  don't 


82  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

refer  to  dress,  but  countenance.  I  confess  I  am  not 
familiar  with  such  gentry  any  further  than  reading  about 
them  in  the  papers — but  those  two  are — are  sharpers, 
aint  they?" 

"  Far  be  from  us  the  captious  and  fault-finding  spirit, 
my  dear  sir." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  would  not  find  fault ;  I  am  little  given 
that  way  ;  but  certainly,  to  say  the  least,  these  two 
youths  can  hardly  be  adepts,  while  the  opposed  couple 
may  be  even  more." 

"  You  would  not  hint  that  the  colored  cravats  would 
be  so  bungling  as  to  lose,  and  the  dark  cravats  so  dex 
trous  as  to  cheat? — Sour  imaginations,  my  dear  sir. 
Dismiss  them.  To  little  purpose  have  you  read  the 
Ode  you  have  there.  Years  and  experience,  I  trust, 
have  not  sophisticated  you.  A  fresh  and  liberal  con 
struction  would  teach  us  to  regard  those  four  players — 
indeed,  this  whole  cabin-full  of  players — as  playing  at 
games  in  which  every  player  plays  fair,  and  not  a  player 
but  shall  win." 

"Now,  you  hardly  mean  that;  because  games  in 
which  all  may  win,  such  games  remain  as  yet  in  this 
world  uninvented,  I  think." 

"  Come,  come,"  luxuriously  laying  himself  back,  and 
casting  a  free  glance  upon  the  players,  "fares  all  paid; 
digestion  sound ;  care,  toil,  penury,  grief,  unknown ; 
lounging  on  this  sofa,  with  waistband  relaxed,  why  not 
be  cheerfully  resigned  to  one's  fate,  nor  peevishly  pick 
holes  in  the  blessed  fate  of  the  world  ?" 

Upon  this,  the  good  merchant,  after  staring  long  and 


IN      THE      CABIN. 


hard,  and  then  rubbing  his  forehead,  fell  into  medita 
tion,  at  first  uneasy,  but  at  last  composed,  and  in  the 
end,  once  more  addressed  his  companion :  "  Well,  I  see 
it's  good  to  out  with  one's  private  thoughts  now  and 
then.  Somehow,  I  don't  know  why,  a  certain  misty 
suspiciousness  seems  inseparable  from  most  of  one's  pri 
vate  notions  about  some  men  and  some  things ;  but 
once  out  with  these  misty  notions,  and  their  mere  con 
tact  with  other  men's  soon  dissipates,  or,  at  least,  modi 
fies  them." 

"You  think  I  have  done  you  good,  then?  maybe, 
I  have.  But  don't  thank  me,  don't  thank  me.  If  by 
words,  casually  delivered  in  the  social  hour,  I  do  any 
good  to  right  or  left,  it  is  but  involuntary  influence — 
locust-tree  sweetening  the  herbage  under  it ;  no  merit 
at  all ;  mere  wholesome  accident,  of  a  wholesome  na 
ture. — Don't  you  see?" 

Another  stare  from  the  good  merchant,  and  both  were 
silent  again. 

Finding  his  book,  hitherto  resting  on  his  lap*  rather 
irksome  there,  the  owner  now  places  it  edgewise  on  the 
settee,  between  himself  and  neighbor ;  in  so  doing, 
chancing  to  expose  the  lettering  on  the  back — u  Blade 
Rapias  Coal  Company"  —  which  the  good  merchant, 
scrupulously  honorable,  had  much  ado  to  avoid  reading, 
so  directly  would  it  have  fallen  under  his  eye,  had 
he  not  conscientiously  averted  it.  On  a  sudden,  as  if 
just  reminded  of  something,  the  stranger  starts  up,  and 
moves  away,  in  his  haste  leaving  his  book ;  which 
the  merchant  observing,  without  delay  takes  it  up,  and, 


84  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAIM. 

hurrying  after,  civilly  returns  it ;  in  which  act  he  could 
not  avoid  catching  sight  by  an  involuntary  glance  of 
part  of  the  lettering. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,  my  good  sir,"  said  the  other, 
receiving  the  volume,  and  was  resuming  his  retreat, 
when  the  merchant  spoke  :•  "Excuse  me,  but  are  you 
not  in  some  way  connected  with  the — the  Coal  Company 
'I  have  heard  of?" 

"  There  is  more  than  one  Coal  Company  that  may  be 
heard  of,  my  good  sir,"  smiled  the  other,  pausing  with 
an  expression  of  painful  impatience,  disinterestedly 
mastered. 

"But  you  are  connected  with  one  in  particular. — 
The  *  Black  Rapids,'  are  you  not?" 

"  How  did  you  find  that  out?" 

"  Well,  sir,  I  have  heard  rather  tempting  information 
of  your  Company." 

"  Who  is  your  informant,  pray,"  somewhat  coldly. 

"  A — a  person  by  the  name  of  Ringman." 

"Don't  know  him.  But,  doubtless,  there  are  plenty 
who  know  our  Company,  whom  our  Company  does  not 
know ;  in  the  same  way  that  one  may  know  an  indi 
vidual,  yet  be  unknown  to  him. — Known  this  Ringman 
long  ?  Old  friend,  I  suppose. — But  pardon,  I  must 
leave  you." 

"Stay,  sir,  that — that  stock." 

"Stock?" 

"Yes,  it's  a  little  irregular,  perhaps,  but — " 

"Dear  me,  you  don't  think  of  doing  any  business 
with  me,  do  you?  In  my  official  capacity  I  have  not 


IN      THE      CABIN.  85 

been  authenticated  to  you.  This  transfer-book,  now," 
holding  it  up  so  as  to  bring  the  lettering  in  sight,  "  how 
do  you  know  that  it  may  not  be  a  bogus  one  ?  And  I, 
being  personally  a  stranger  to  you,  how  can  you  %ave 
confidence  in  me  ?" 

"  Because,"   knowingly  smiled  the  good  merchant, 
"  if  you  were  other  than  I  have  confidence  that  you  are, 
hardly  would  you  challenge  distrust  that  way." 
"  But  you  have  not  examined  my  book." 
"  What  need  to,  if  already  I  believe  that  it  is  what  it 
is  lettered  to  be  ?" 

"  But  you  had  better.  It  might  suggest  doubts." 
"  Doubts,  may  be,  it  might  suggest,  but  not  know 
ledge;  for  how,  by  examining  the  book,  should  I  think  I 
knew  any  more  than  I  now  think  I  do ;  since,  if  it 
be  the  true  book,  I  think  it  so  already ;  and  since  if  it 
be  otherwise,  then  I  have  never  seen  the  true  one,  and 
don't  know  what  that  ought  to  look  like." 

"  Your  logic  I  will  not  criticize,  but  your  confidence  I 
admire,  and  earnestly,  tod,  jocose  as  was  the  method 
I  took  to  draw  it  out.  Enough,  we  will  go  to  yonder 
table,  and  if  there  be  any  business  which,  either  in  my 
private  or  official  capacity,  I  can  help  you  do,  pray 
command  me." 


CHAPTER     XI. 

ONLY   A   PAGE    OR   SO. 

THE  transaction  concluded,  the  two  still  remained 
seated,  falling  into  familiar  conversation,  by  degrees 
verging  into  that  confidential  sort  of  sympathetic 
silence,  the  last  refinement  and  luxury  of  unaffected 
good  feeling.  A  kind  of  social  superstition,  to  suppose 
that  to  be  truly  friendly  one  must  be  saying  friendly 
words  all  the  time,  any  more  than  be  doing  friendly 
deeds  continually.  True  friendliness,  like  true  religion, 
being  in  a  sort  independent  of  works. 

At  length,  the  good  merchant,  whose  eyes  were  pen 
sively  resting  upon  the  gay  tables  in  the  distance,  broke 
the  spell  by  saying  that,  from  the  spectacle  before  them, 
one  would  little  divine  what  other  quarters  of  the  boat 
might  reveal.  He  cited  the  case,  accidentally  encoun 
tered  but  an  hour  or  two  previous,  of  a  shrunken  old 
miser,  clad  in  shrunken  old  moleskin,  stretched  out,  an 
invalid,  on  a  bare  plank  in  the  emigrants'  quarters, 
eagerly  clinging  to  life  and  lucre,  though  the  one  was 
gasping  for  outlet,  and  about  the  other  he  was  in  tor 
ment  lest  death,  or  some  other  unprincipled  cut-purse, 
should  be  the  means  of  his  losing  it;  by  like  feeble 


OXLY      A      PAGE      OR      SO.  87 

tenure  holding  lungs  and  pouch,  and  yet  knowing  and 
desiring  nothing  beyond  them  ;  for  his  mind,  never 
raised  above  mould,  was  now  all  but  mouldered  away. 
To  such  a  degree,  indeed,  that  he  had  no  trust  in  any 
thing,  not  even  in  his  parchment  bonds,  which,  the  bet 
ter  to  preserve  from  the  tooth  of  time,  he  had  packed 
down  and  sealed  up,  like  brandy  peaches,  in  a  tin  case 
of  spirits. 

The  worthy  man  proceeded  at  some  length  with 
these  dispiriting  particulars.  Nor  would  his  cheery 
companion  wholly  deny  that  there  might  be  a  point  of 
view  from  which  such  a  case  of  extreme  want  of  confi 
dence  might,  to  the  humane  mind,  present  features  not 
altogether  welcome  as  wine  and  olives  after  dinner. 
Still,  he  was  not  without  compensatory  considerations, 
and,  upon  the  whole,  took  his  companion  to  task  for 
evincing  what,  in  a  good-natured,  round-about  way,  he 
hinted  to  be  a  somewhat  jaundiced  sentimentality. 
Nature,  he  added,  in  Shakespeare's  words,  had  meal  and 
bran  ;  and,  rightly  regarded,  the  bran  in  its  way  was 
not  to  be  condemned. 

The  other  was  not  disposed  to  question  the  justice  of 
Shakespeare's  thought,  but  would  hardly  admit  the 
propriety  of  the  application  in  this  instance,  much  less 
of  the  comment.  So,  after  some  further  temperate  dis 
cussion  of  the  pitiable  miser,  finding  that  they  could 
not  entirely  harmonize,  the  merchant  cited  another  case, 
that  of  the  negro  cripple.  But  his  companion  sug 
gested  whether  the  alleged  hardships  of  that  alleged 
unfortunate  might  not  exist  more  in  the  pity  of  the  ob- 


88  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

server  than  the  experience  of  the  observed.  He  knew 
nothing  about  the  cripple,  nor  had  seen  him,  but  ven 
tured  to  surmise  that,  could  one  but  get  at  the  real  state 
of  his  heart,  he  would  be  found  about  as  happy  as  most 
men,  if  not,  in  fact,  full  as  happy  as  the  speaker  him 
self.  He  added  that  negroes  were  by  nature  a  singularly 
cheerful  race  ;  no  one  ever  heard  of  a  native-born  African 
Zimmermann  or  Torquemada ;  that  even  from  religion 
they  dismissed  all  gloom  ;  in  their  hilarious  rituals  they 
danced,  so  to  speak,  and,  as  it  were,  cut  pigeon-wings. 
It  was  improbable,  therefore,  that  a  negro,  however  re 
duced  to  his  stumps  by  fortune,  could  be  ever  thrown 
off  the  legs  of  a  laughing  philosophy. 

Foiled  again,  the  good  merchant  would  not  desist,  but 
ventured  still  a  third  case,  that  of  the  man  with  the 
weed,  whose  story,  as  narrated  by  himself,  and  confirm 
ed  and  filled  out  by  the  testimony  of  a  certain  man  in  a 
gray  coat,  whom  the  merchant  had  afterwards  met,  he 
now  proceeded  to  give ;  and  that,  without  holding 
back  those  particulars  disclosed  by  the  second  inform 
ant,  but  which  delicacy  had  prevented  the  unfortunate 
man  himself  from  touching  upon. 

But  as  the  good  merchant  could,  perhaps,  do  better 
justice  to  the  man  than  the  story,  we  shall  venture  to 
tell  it  in  other  words  than  his,  though  not  to  any  other 
effect. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

STORY   OF    THE     UNFORTUNATE     MAN,    FROM     WHICH     MAY     BE     GATHERED 
WHETHER   OR    NO   HE    HAS    BEEN   JUSTLY    SO   ENTITLED. 

IT  appeared  that  the  unfortunate  man  had  had  for  a 
wife  one  of  those  natures,  anomalously  vicious,  which 
would  almost  tempt  a  metaphysical  lover  of  our  species 
to  doubt  whether  the  human  form  be,  in  all  cases,  con 
clusive  evidence  of  humanity,  whether,  sometimes,  it  may 
not  be  a  kind  of  unpledged  and  indifferent  tabernacle, 
and  whether,  once  for  all  to  crush  the  saying  of  Thrasea, 
(an  unaccountable  one,  considering  that  he  himself  was 
so  good  a  man)  that  "  he  who  hates  vice,  hates  humanity," 
it  should  not,  in  self-defense,  be  held  for  a  reasonable 
maxim,  that  none  but  the  good  are  human. 

Goneril  was  young,  in  person  lithe  and  straight,  too 
straight,  indeed,  for  a  woman,  a  complexion  naturally 
rosy,  and  which  would  have  been  charmingly  so,  but  for 
a  certain  hardness  and  bakedness,  like  that  of  the  glazed 
colors  on  stone-ware.  Her  hair  was  of  a  deep,  rich 
chestnut,  but  worn  in  close,  short  curls  all  round  her 
head.  Her  Indian  figure  was  not  without  its  impairing 
effect  on  her  bust,  while  her  mouth  would  have  been 
pretty  but  for  a  trace  of  moustache.  Upon  the  whole, 


90  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

aided  by  the  resources  of  the  toilet,  her  appearance  at 
distance  was  such,  that  some  might  have  thought  her,  if 
anything,  rather  beautiful,  though  of  a  style  of  beauty 
rather  peculiar  and  cactus-like. 

It  was  happy  for  Groneril  that  her  more  striking  pecu 
liarities  were  less  of  the  person  than  of  temper  and  taste. 
One  hardly  knows  how  to  reveal,  that,  while  having  a 
natural  antipathy  to  such  things  as  the  breast  of  chicken,' 
or  custard,  or  peach,  or  grape,  Goneril  could  yet  in 
private  make  a  satisfactory  lunch  on  hard  crackers  and 
brawn  of  ham.  She  liked  lemons,  and  the  only  kind  of 
candy  she  loved  were  little  dried  sticks  of  blue  clay, 
secretly  carried  in  her  pocket.  Withal  she  had  hard, 
steady  health  like  a  squaw's,  with  as  firm  a  spirit  and 
resolution.  Some  other  points  about  her  were  likewise 
such  as  pertain  to  the  women  of  savage  life.  Lithe 
though  she  was,  she  loved  supineness,  but  upon  occasion 
could  endure  like  a  stoic.  She  was  taciturn,  too.  From 
early  morning  till  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
she  would  seldom  speak — it  taking  that  time  to  thaw 
her,  by  all  accounts,  into  but  talking  terms  with  hu 
manity.  During  the  interval  she  did  little  but  look,  and 
keep  looking  out  of  her  large,  metallic  eyes,  which  her 
enemies  called  cold  as  a  cuttle-fish's,  but  which  by  her 
were  esteemed  gazelle-like;  for  Goneril  was  not  without 
vanity.  Those  who  thought  they  best  knew  her,  often 
wondered  what  happiness  such  a  being  could  take  in 
life,  not  considering  the  happiness  which  is  to  be  had  by 
some  natures  in  the  very  easy  way  of  simply  causing 
pain  to  those  around  them.  Those  who  suffered  from 


STORY     OF     THE      UNFORTUNATE     MAN.          91 

Goneril's  strange  nature,  might,  with  one  of  those 
hyberboles  to  which  the  resentful  incline,  have  pro 
nounced  her  some  kind  of  toad ;  but  her  worst  slander 
ers  could  never,  with  any  show  of  justice,  have  accused 
her  of  being  a  toady.  In  a  large  sense  she  possessed 
the  virtue  of  independence  of  mind.  Goneril  held  it 
flattery  to  hint  praise  even  of  the  absent,  and  even  if 
merited ;  but  honesty,  to  fling  people's  imputed  faults 
into  their  faces.  This  was  thought  malice,  but  it  cer 
tainly  was  not  passion.  Passion  is  human.  Like  an 
icicle-dagger,  Goneril  at  once  stabbed  and  froze  ;  so  at 
least  they  said ;  and  when  she  saw  frankness  and  inno 
cence  tyrannized  into  sad  nervousness  under  her  spell, 
according  to  the  same  authority,  inly  she  chewed  her 
blue  clay,  and  you  could  mark  that  she  chuckled.  These 
peculiarities  were  strange  and  unpleasing  ;  but  another 
was  alleged,  one  really  incomprehensible.  In  company 
she  had  a  strange  way  of  touching,  as  by  accident,  the 
arm  or  hand  of  comely  young  men,  and  seemed  to  reap 
a  secret  delight  from  it,  but  whether  from  the  humane 
satisfaction  of  having  given  the  evil-touch,  as  it  is  called, 
or  whether  it  was  something  else  in  her,  not  equally 
wonderful,  but  quite  as  deplorable,  remained  an  enigma. 
Needless  to  say  what  distress  was  the  unfortunate  man's, 
when,  engaged  in  conversation  with  company,  he  would 
suddenly  perceive  his  Goneril  bestowing  her  mysterious 
touches,  especially  in  such  cases  where  the  strangeness 
of  the  thing  seemed  to  strike  upon  the  touched  person, 
notwithstanding  good-breeding  forbade  his  proposing 
the  mystery,  on  the  spot,  as  a  subject  of  discussion  for 


92  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

the  company.  In  these  cases,  too,  the  unfortunate  man 
could  never  endure  so  much  as  to  look  upon  the  touched 
young  gentleman  afterwards,  fearful  of  the  mortification 
of  meeting  in  his  countenance  some  kind  of  more  or  less 
quizzingly-knowing  expression.  He  would  shudderingly 
shun  the  young  gentleman.  So  that  here,  to  the  hus 
band,  Goneril's  touch  had  the  dread  operation  of  the 
heathen  taboo.  Now  Goneril  brooked  no  chiding.  So, 
at  favorable  times,  he,  in  a  wary  manner,  and  not  indeli 
cately,  would  venture  in  private  interviews  gently  to 
make  distant  allusions  to  this  questionable  propensity. 
She  divined  him.  But,  in  her  cold  loveless  way,  said  it 
was  witless  to  be  telling  one's  dreams,  especially  foolish 
ones ;  but  if  the  unfortunate  man  liked  connubially  to 
rejoice  his  soul  with  such  chimeras,  much  connubial  joy 
might  they  give  him.  All  this  was  sad — a  touching 
case — but  all  might,  perhaps,  have  been  borne  by  the 
unfortunate  man — conscientiously  mindful  of  his  vow — 
for  better  or  for  worse — to  love  and  cherish  his  dear 
Goneril  so  long  as  kind  heaven  might  spare  her  to  him 
— but  when,  after  all  that  had  happened,  the  devil  of 
jealousy  entered  her,  a  calm,  clayey,  cakey  devil,  for 
none  other  could  possess  her,  and  the  object  of  that  de 
ranged  jealousy,  her  own  child,  a  little  girl  of  seven,  her 
father's  consolation  and  pet ;  when  he  saw  Goneril  art 
fully  torment  the  little  innocent,  and  then  play  the 
maternal  hypocrite  with  it,  the  unfortunate  man's  patient 
long-suffering  gave  way.  Knowing  that  she  would 
neither  confess  nor  amend,  and  might,  possibly,  become 
even  worse  than  she  was,  he  thought  it  but  duty  as  a 


STORY     OF     THE      UNFORTUNATE     MAN.          93 

father,  to  withdraw  the  child  from  her ;  but,  loving  it  as 
he  did,  he  could  not  do  so  without  accompanying  it  into 
domestic  exile  himself.  Which,  hard  though  it  was,  he 
did.  Whereupon  the  whole  female  neighborhood,  who 
till  now  had  little  enough  admired  dame  Groneril,  broke 
out  in  indignation  against  a  husband,  who,  without  as 
signing  a  cause,  could  deliberately  abandon  the  wife  of 
his  bosom,  and  sharpen  the  sting  to  her,  too,  by  depriving 
her  of  the  solace  of  retaining  her  offspring.  To  all  this, 
self-respect,  with  Christian  charity  towards  Goneril,  long 
kept  the  unfortunate  man  dumb.  And  well  had  it  been 
had  he  continued  so ;  for  when,  driven  to  desperation, 
he  hinted  something  of  the  trath  of  the  case,  not  a  soul 
would  credit  it ;  while  for  Groneril,  she  pronounced  all 
he  said  to  be  a  malicious  invention.  Ere  long,  at  the 
suggestion  of  some  womanVrights  women,  the  injured 
wife  began  a  suit,  and,  thanks  to  able  counsel  and  ac 
commodating  testimony,  succeeded  in  such  a  way,  as 
not  only  to  recover  custody  of  the  child,  but  to  get  such 
a  settlement  awarded  upon  a  separation,  as  to  make 
penniless  the  unfortunate  man  (so  he  averred),  besides, 
through  the  legal  sympathy  she  enlisted,  effecting  a 
judicial  blasting  of  his  private  reputation.  What  made 
it  yet  more  lamentable  was,  that  the  unfortunate  man, 
thinking  that,  before  the  court,  his  wisest  plan,  as  well 
as  the  most  Christian  besides,  being,  as  he  deemed,  not 
at  variance  with  the  truth  of  the  matter,  would  be  to 
put  forth  the  plea  of  the  mental  derangement  of  Goneril, 
which  done,  he  could,  with  less  of  mortification  to  him 
self,  and  odium  to  her,  reveal  in  self-defense  those 


94  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

eccentricities  which  had  led  to  his  retirement  from  the 
joys  of  wedlock,  had  much  ado  in  the  end  to  prevent  this 
charge  of  derangement  from  fatally  recoiling  upon  him 
self — especially,  when,  among  other  things,  he  alleged 
her  mysterious  touchings.  In  vain  did  his  counsel, 
striving  to  make  out  the  derangement  to  be  where,  in 
fact,  if  anywhere,  it  was,  urge  that,  to  hold  otherwise, 
to  hold  that  such  a  being  as  Goneril  was  sane,  this  was 
constructively  a  libel  upon  womankind.  Libel  be  it. 
And  all  ended  by  the  unfortunate  man's  subsequently 
getting  wind  of  Goneril's  intention  to  procure  him  to 
be  permanently  committed  for  a  lunatic.  Upon  which 
he  fled,  and  was  now  an  innocent  outcast,  wandering 
forlorn  in  the  great  valley  of  the  Mississippi,  with  a 
weed  on  his  hat  for  the  loss  of  his  Goneril;  for  he  had 
lately  seen  by  the  papers  that  she  was  dead,  and  thought 
it  but  proper  to  comply  with  the  prescribed  form  of 
mourning  in  such  cases.  For  some  days  past  he  had 
been  trying  to  get  money  enough  to  return  to  his  child, 
and  was  but  now  started  with  inadequate  funds. 

Now  all  of  this,  from  the  beginning,  the  good  mer 
chant  could  not  but  consider  rather  hard  for  the  unfor 
tunate  man. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  TRAVELING-CAP  EVINCES  MUCH  HUMANITY, 
AND  IN  A  WAY  WHICH  WOULD  SEEM  TO  SHOW  HIM  TO  BE  ONE 
OP  THE  MOST  LOGICAL  OF  OPTIMISTS. 

YEARS  ago,  a  grave  American  savan,  being  in  London, 
observed  at  an  evening  party  there,  a  certain  coxcombi 
cal  fellow,  as  he  thought,  an  absurd  ribbon  in  his  lapel, 
and  full  of  smart  persiflage,  whisking  about  to  the  ad 
miration  of  as  many  as  were  disposed  to  admire.  Great 
was  the  savan's  disdain ;  but,  chancing  ere  long  to  find 
himself  in  a  corner  with  the  jackanapes,  got  into  con 
versation  with  him,  when  he  was  somewhat  ill-prepared 
for  the  good  sense  of  the  jackanapes,  but  was  altogether 
thrown  aback,  upon  subsequently  being  whispered  by  a 
friend  that  the  jackanapes  was  almost  as  great  a  savan 
as  himself,  being  no  less  a  personage  than  Sir  Humphrey 
Davy. 

The  above  anecdote  is  given  just  here  by  way  of  an 
anticipative  reminder  to  sucji  readers  as,  from  the  kind 
of  jaunty  levity,  or  what  may  have  passed  for  such, 
hitherto  for  the  most  part  appearing  in  the  man  with  the 
traveling-cap,  may  have  been  tempted  into  a  more  or 
less  hasty  estimate  of  him  ;  that  such  readers,  when 


96  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

they  find  the  same  person,  as  they  presently  will,  capa 
ble  of  philosophic  and  humanitarian  discourse — no  mere 
casual  sentence  or  two  as  heretofore  at  times,  but  solidly 
sustained  throughout  an  almost  entire  sitting  ;  that  they 
may  not,  likathe  American  savan,  be  thereupon  betrayed 
into  any  surprise  incompatible  with  their  own  good 
opinion  of  their  previous  penetration. 

The  merchant's  narration  being  ended,  the  other 
would  not  deny  but  that  it  did  in  some  degree  affect 
him.  He  hoped  he  was  not  without  proper  feeling  for 
the  unfortunate  man.  But  he  begged  to  know  in  what 
spirit  he  bore  his  alleged  calamities.  Did  he  despond 
or  have  confidence  ? 

The  merchant  did  not,  perhaps,  take  the  exact  import 
of  the  last  member  of  the  question  ;  but  answered,  that, 
if  whether  the  unfortunate  man  was  becomingly  resigned 
under  his  affliction  or  no,  was  the  point,  he  could  say  for 
him  that  resigned  he  was,  and  to  an  exemplary  degree  : 
for  not  only,  so  far  as  known,  did  he  refrain  from  any 
one-sided  reflections  upon  human  goodness  and  human 
justice,  but  there  was  observable  in  him  an  air  of 
chastened  reliance,  and  at  times  tempered  cheerfulness. 

Upon  which  the  other  observed,  that  since  the  unfor 
tunate  man's  alleged  experience  could  not  be  deemed 
very  conciliatory  towards  a  viewof  human  nature  better 
than  human  nature  was,  it  largely  redounded  to  his 
fair-mindedness,  as  well  as  piety,  that  under  the  alleged 
dissuasives,  apparently  so,  from  philanthropy,  he  had 
not,  in  a  moment  of  excitement,  been  warped  over  to 
the  ranks  of  the  misanthropes.  He  doubted  not,  also, 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  TRAVELING-CAP,  ETC.      97 

that  with  such  a  man  his  experience  would,  in  the  end, 
act  by  a  complete  and  beneficent  inversion,  and  so  far 
from  shaking  his  confidence  in  his  kind,  confirm  it,  and 
rivet  it.  Which  would  the  more  surely  be  the  case,  did 
he  (the  unfortunate  man)  at  last  become  satisfied  (as 
sooner  or  later  he  probably  would  be)  that  in  the  dis 
traction  of  his  mind  his  Goneril  had  not  in  all  respects 
had  fair  play.  At  all  events,  the  description  of  the 
lady,  charity  could  not  but  regard  as  more  or  less  exag 
gerated,  and  so  far  unjust.  The  truth  probably  was 
that  she  was  a  wife  with  some  blemishes  mixed  with 
some  beauties.  But  when  the  blemishes  were  displayed, 
her  husband,  no  adept  in  the  female  nature,  had  tried  to 
use  reason  with  her,  instead  of  something  far  more  per 
suasive.  Hence  his  failure  to  convince  and  convert. 
The  act  of  withdrawing  from  her,  seemed,  under  the 
circumstances,  abrupt.  In  brief,  there  were  probably 
small  faults  on  both  sides,  more  than  balanced  by  large 
virtues  ;  and  one  should  not  be  hasty  in  judging. 

When  the  merchant,  strange  to  say,  opposed  views  so 
calm  and  impartial,  and  again,  with  some  warmth,  de 
plored  the  case  of  the  unfortunate  man,  his  companion, 
not  without  seriousness,  checked  him,  saying,  that  this 
would  never  do ;  that,  though  but  in  the  most  exceptional 
case,  to  admit  the  existence  of  unmerited  misery,  more 
particularly  if  alleged  to  have  been  brought  about  by 
unhindered  arts  of  the  wicked,  such  an  admission  was, 
to  say  the  least,  not  prudent ;  since,  with  some,  it  might 
unfavorably  bias  their  most  important  persuasions.  Not 
that  those  persuasions  were  legitimately  servile  to  such 

5 


98  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

influences.  Because,  since  the  common  occurrences  of 
life  could  never,  in  the  nature  of  things,  steadily  look  one 
way  and  tell  one  story,  as  flags  in  the  trade-wind  ;  hence, 
if  the  conviction  of  a  Providence,  for  instance,  were  in 
any  way  made  dependent  upon  such  variabilities  as 
everyday  events,  the  degree  of  that  conviction  would, 
in  thinking  minds,  be  subject  to  fluctuations  akin  to  those 
of  the  stock-exchange  during  a  long  and  uncertain  war. 
Here  he  glanced  aside  at  his  transfer-book,  and  after  a 
moment's  pause  continued.  It  was  of  the  essence  of  a 
right  conviction  of  the  divine  nature,  as  with  a  right 
conviction  of  the  human,  that,  based  less  on  experience 
than  intuition,  it  rose  above  the  zones  of  weather. 

When  now  the  merchant,  with  all  his  heart,  coincided 
with  this  (as  being  a  sensible,  as  well  as  religious  per 
son,  he  could  not  but  do),  his  companion  expressed  sat 
isfaction,  that,  in  an  age  of  some  distrust  on  such  sub 
jects,  he  could  yet  meet  with  one  who  shared  with  him, 
almost  to  the  full,  so  sound  and  sublime  a  confidence. 

Still,  he  was  far  from  the  illiberality  of  denying  that 
philosophy  duly  bounded  was  not  permissible.  Only 
he  deemed  it  at  least  desirable  that,  when  such  a  case  as 
that  alleged  of  the  unfortunate  man  was  made  the  sub 
ject  of  philosophic  discussion,  it  should  be  so  philoso 
phized  upon,  as  not  to  afford  handles  to  those  unblessed 
with  the  true  light.  For,  but  to  grant  that  there  was 
so  much  as  a  mystery  about  such  a  case,  might  by  those 
persons  be  held  for  a  tacit  surrender  of  the  question. 
And  as  for  the  apparent  license  temporarily  permitted 
sometimes,  to  the  bad  over  the  good  (as  was  by  implica- 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  TRAVELING-CAP,  ETC.     99 

tion  alleged  with  regard  to  Goneril  and  the  unforfcrmate 
man),  it  might  be  injudicious  there  to  lay  too  much 
polemic  stress  upon  the  doctrine  of  future  retribution  as 
the  vindication  of  present  impunity.  For  though,  indeed, 
to  the  right-minded  that  doctrine  was  true,  and  of  suffi 
cient  solace,  yet  with  the  perverse  the  polemic  mention 
of  it  might  but  provoke  the  shallow,  though  mischievous 
conceit,  that  such  a  doctrine  was  but  tantamount  to  the 
one  which  should  affirm  that  Providence  was  not  now. 
but  was  going  to  be.  In  short,  with  all  sorts  of  cavil- 
ers,  it  was  best,  both  for  them  and  everybody,  that  who 
ever  had  the  true  light  should  stick  behind  the  secure 
Malakoffof  confidence,  nor  be  tempted  forth  to  hazard 
ous  skirmishes  on  the  open  ground  of  reason.  There 
fore,  he  deemed  it  unadvisable  in  the  good  man,  even  in 
the  privacy  of  his  own  mind,  or  in  communion  with  a 
congenial  one,  to  indulge  in  too  much  latitude  of  philoso 
phizing,  or,  indeed,  of  compassionating,  since  this  might 
beget  an  indiscreet  habit  of  thinking  and  feeling  which 
might  unexpectedly  betray  him  upon  unsuitable  occa 
sions.  Indeed,  whether  in  private  or  public,  there  was 
nothing  which  a  good  man  was  more  bound  to  guard 
himself  against  than,  on  some  topics,  the  emotional  un 
reserve  of  his  natural  heart ;  for,  that  the  natural  heart, 
in  certain  points,  was  not  what  it  might  be,  men  had 
been  authoritatively  admonished. 

But  he  thought  he  might  be  getting  dry. 

The  merchant,  in  his  good-nature,  thought  otherwise, 
and  said  that  he  would  be  glad  to  refresh  himself  with 
such  fruit  all  day.  It  was  sitting  under  a  ripe  pulpit, 


100  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

and  better  such  a  seat  than  under  a  ripe  peach- 
tree. 

The  other  was  pleased  to  find  that  he  had  not,  as  he 
feared,  been  prosing  ;  but  would  rather  not  be  consid 
ered  in  the  formal  light  of  a  preacher ;  he  preferred 
being  still  received  in  that  of  the  equal  and  genial  com 
panion.  To  which  end,  throwing  still  more  of  socia 
bility  into  his  manner,  he  again  reverted  to  the  unfor 
tunate  man.  Take  the  very  worst  view  of  that  case  ; 
admit  that  his  G-oneril  was,  indeed,  a  Goneril ;  how 
fortunate  to  be  at  last  rid  of  this  Groneril,  both  by 
nature  and  by  law  ?  If  he  were  acquainted  with  the 
unfortunate  man,  instead  of  condoling  with  him,  he 
would  congratulate  him.  Great  good  fortune  had  this 
unfortunate  man.  Lucky  dog,  he  dared  say,  after  all. 

To  which  the  merchant  replied,  that  he  earnestly 
hoped  it  might  be  so,  and  at  any  rate  he  tried  his  best 
to  comfort  himself  with  the  persuasion  that,  if  the  un 
fortunate  man  was  not  happy  in  this  world,  he  would, 
at  least,  be  so  in  another. 

His  companion  made  no  question  of  the  unfortunate 
man's  happiness  in  both  worlds  ;  and,  presently  calling 
for  some  champagne,  invited  the  merchant  to  partake, 
upon  the  playful  plea  that,  whatever  notions  other  than 
felicitous  ones  he  might  associate  with  the  unfortunate 
man,  a  little  champagne  would  readily  bubble  away. 

At  intervals  they  slowly  quaffed  several  glasses  in 
silence  and  thoughtfulness.  At  last  the  merchant's  ex 
pressive  face  flushed,  his  eye  moistly  beamed,  his  lips 
trembled  with  an  imaginative  and  feminine  sensibility. 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  T  RAVE  L  IN  G-  CAP,  ETC.     101 

Without  sending  a  single  fume  to  his  head,  the  wine 
seemed  to  shoot  to  his  heart,  and  begin  soothsaying 
there.  "Ah,"  he  cried,  pushing  his  glass  from  him, 
"  Ah,  wine  is  good,  and  confidence  is  good  ;  but  can  wine 
or  confidence  percolate  down  through  all  the  stony 
strata  of  hard  considerations,  and  drop  warmly  and 
ruddily  in.to  the  cold  cave  of  truth  ?  Truth  will  not  be 
comforted.  Led  by  dear  charity,  lured  by  sweet  hope, 
fond  fancy  essays  this  feat ;  but  in  vain  ;  mere  dreams 
and  ideals,  they  explode  in  your  hand,  leaving  naught 
but  the  scorching  behind!" 

"  Why,  why,  why  !"  in  amaze,  at  the  burst ;  "  bless 
me,  if  In  vino  veritas  be  a  true  saying,  then,  for  all  the 
fine  confidence  you  professed  with  me,  just  now,  dis 
trust,  deep  distrust,  underlies  it;  and  ten  thousand 
strong,  like  the  Irish  Rebellion,  breaks  out  in  you  now. 
That  wine,  good  wine,  should  do  it!  Upon  my  soul," 
half  seriously,  half  humorously,  securing  the  bottle, 
"  you  shall  drink  no  more  of  it.  Wine  was  meant  to 
gladden  the  heart,  not  grieve  it;  to  heighten  confi 
dence,  not  depress  it." 

Sobered,  shamed,  all  but  confounded,  by  this  raillery, 
the  most  telling  rebuke  under  such  circumstances,  the 
merchant  stared  about  him,  and  then,  with  altered  mien, 
stammeringly  confessed,  that  he  was  almost  as  much 
surprised  as  his  companion,  at  what  had  escaped  him. 
He  did  not  understand  it ;  was  quite  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  such  a  rhapsody  popping  out  of  him  unbidden.  It 
could  hardly  be  the  champagne ;  he  felt  his  brain  un 
affected  ;  in  fact,  if  anything,  the  wine  had  acted  upon 


102  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

it  something  like  white  of  egg  in  coffee,  clarifying  and 
brightening." 

"Brightening?  brightening  it  may  be,  but  less  like 
the  white  of  egg  in  coffee,  than  like  stove-lustre  on  a 
stove — black,  brightening  seriously,  I  repent  calling  for 
the  champagne.  To  a  temperament  like  yours,  cham 
pagne  is  not  to  be  recommended.  Pray,  my  clear  sir,  do 
you  feel  quite  yourself  again  ?  Confidence  restored  ?" 

"  I  hope  so  ;  I  think  I  may  say  it  is  so.  But  we  have 
had  a  long  talk,  and  I  think  I  must  retire  now." 

So  saying,  the  merchant  rose,  and  making  his  adieus, 
left  the  table  with  the  air  of  one,  mortified  at  having 
been  tempted  by  his  own  honest  goodness,  accidentally 
stimulated  into  making  mad  disclosures — to  himself  as 
to  another — of  the  queer,  unaccountable  caprices  of  his 
natural  heart. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

WORTH     THE     CONSIDERATION     OP     THOSE     TO     WHOM     IT     MAY     PROVE 
WORTH    CONSIDERING. 

As  the  last  chapter  was  begun  with  a  reminder  look 
ing  forwards,  so  the  present  must  consist  of  one  glancing 
backwards. 

To  some,  it  may  raise  a  degree  of  surprise  that  one 
so  full  of  confidence,  as  the  merchant  has  throughout 
shown  himself,  up  to  the  moment  of  his  late  sudden  im 
pulsiveness,  should,  in  that  instance,  have  betrayed  such 
a  depth  of  discontent.  He  may  be  thought  inconsistent, 
and  even  so  he  is.  But  for  this,  is  the  author  to  be 
blamed  ?  True,  it  may  be  urged  that  there  is  nothing 
a  writer  of  fiction  should  more  carefully  see  to,  as  there 
is  nothing  a  sensible  reader  will  more  carefully  look  for, 
than  that,  in  the  depiction  of  any  character,  its  consistency 
should  be  preserved.  But  this,  though  at  first  blush, 
seeming  reasonable  enough,  may,  upon  a  closer  view, 
prove  not  so  much  so.  For  how  does  it  couple  with 
another  requirement — equally  insisted  upon,  perhaps — 
that,  while  to  all  fiction  is  allowed  some  play  of  invention, 
yet,  fiction  based  on  fact  should  never  be  contradictory 
to  it ;  and  is  it  not  a  fact,  that,  in  real  life,  a  consistent 


104  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

character  is  a  rara  avis  ?  Which  being  so,  the  distaste 
of  readers  to  the  contrary  sort  in  books,  can  hardly  arise 
from  any  sense  of  their  untrueness.  It  may  rather  be 
from  perplexity  as  to  understanding  them.  But  if  the 
acutest  sage  be  often  at  his  wits'  ends  to  understand 
living  character,  shall  those  who  are  not  sages  expect  to 
run  and  read  character  in  those  mere  phantoms  which 
flit  along  a  page,  like  shadows  along  a  wall  ?  That 
fiction,  where  every  character  can,  by  reason  of  its  con 
sistency,  be  comprehended  at  a  glance,  either  exhibits 
but  sections  of  character,  making  them  appear  for 
wholes,  or  else  is  very  untrue  to  reality  ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  author  who  draws  a  character,  even 
though  to  common  view  incongruous  in  its  parts,  as  the 
flying-squirrel,  and,  at  different  periods,  as  much  at 
variance  with  itself  as  the  butterfly  is  with  the  cater 
pillar  into  which  it  changes,  may  yet,  in  so  doing,  be 
not  false  but  faithful  to  facts. 

If  reason  be  judge,  no  writer  has  produced  such  incon 
sistent  characters  as  nature  herself  has.  It  must  call 
for  no  small  sagacity  in  a  reader  unerringly  to  discrimi 
nate  in  a  novel  between  the  inconsistencies  of  conception 
and  those  of  life  as  elsewhere.  Experience  is  the  only 
guide  here  ;  but  as  no  one  man  can  be  coextensive  with 
what  is,  it  may  be  unwise  in  every  case  to  rest  upon  it. 
When  the  duck-billed  beaver  of  Australia  was  first 
brought  stuffed  to  England,  the  naturalists,  appealing 
to  their  classifications,  maintained  that  there  was.  in 
reality,  no  such  creature;  the  bill  in  the  specimen 
must  needs  be,  in  some  way,  artificially  stuck  on. 


WORTH     THE     CONSIDERATION,     ETC.     105 

But  let  nature,  to  the  perplexity  of  the  naturalists,  pro 
duce  her  duck-billed  beavers  as  she  may,  lesser  authors, 
some  may  hold,  have  no  business  to  be  perplexing 
readers  with  duck-billed  characters.  Always,  they 
should  represent  human  nature  not  in  obscurity,  but 
transparency,  which,  indeed,  is  the  practice  with  most 
novelists,  and  is,  perhaps,  in  certain  cases,  someway  felt 
to  be  a  kind  of  honor  rendered  by  them  to  their  kind. 
But  whether  it  involve  honor  or  otherwise  might  be 
mooted,  considering  that,  if  these  waters  of  human 
nature  can  be  so  readily  seen  through,  it  may  be  either 
that  they  are  very  pure  or  very  shallow.  Upon  the 
whole,  it  might  rather  be  thought,  that  he,  who,  in  view 
of  its  inconsistencies,  says  of  human  nature  the  same  that, 
in  view  of  its  contrasts,  is  said  of  the  divine  nature,  that 
it  is  past  finding  out,  thereby  evinces  a  better  apprecia 
tion  of  it  than  he  who,  by  always  representing  it  in  a 
clear  light,  leaves  it  to  be  inferred  that  he  clearly  knows 
all  about  it. 

But  though  there  is  a  prejudice  against  inconsistent 
characters  in  books,  yet  the  prejudice  bears  the  other 
way,  when  what  seemed  at  first  their  inconsistency, 
afterwards,  by  the  skill  of  the  writer,  turns  out  to  be 
their  good  keeping.  The  great  masters  excel  in  nothing 
so  much  as  in  this  very  particular.  They  challenge 
astonishment  at  the  tangled  web  of  some  character, 
and  then  raise  admiration  still  greater  at  their  satisfac 
tory  unraveling  of  it ;  in  this  way  throwing  open, 
sometimes  to  the  understanding  even  of  school  misses, 
the  last  complications  of  that  spirit  which  is  affirm- 


106  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

ed  by  its  Creator  to  be  fearfully  and  wonderfully 
made. 

At  least,  something  like  this  is  claimed  for  certain 
psychological  novelists;  nor  will  the  claim  be  here 
disputed.  Yet,  as  touching  this  point,  it  may  prove 
suggestive,  that  all  those  sallies  of  ingenuity,  having  for 
their  end  the  revelation  of  human  nature  on  fixed  prin 
ciples,  have,  by  the  best  judges,  been  excluded  with 
contempt  from  the  ranks  of  the  sciences — palmistry, 
physiognomy,  phrenology,  psychology.  Likewise,  the 
fact,  that  in  all  ages  such  conflicting  views  have,  by  the 
most  eminent  minds,  been  taken  of  mankind,  would,  as 
with,  other  topics,  seem  some  presumption  of  a  pretty 
general  and  pretty  thorough  ignorance  of  it.  Which 
may  appear  the  less  improbable  if  it  be  considered  that, 
after  poring  over  the  best  novels  professing  to  portray 
human  nature,  the  studious  youth  will  still  run  risk  of 
being  too  often  at  fault  upon  actually  entering  the  world ; 
whereas,  had  he  been  furnished  with  a  true  delineation, 
it  ought  to  fare  with  him  something  as  with  a  stranger 
entering,  map  in  hand,  Boston  town  ;  the  streets  may  be 
very  crooked,  he  may  often  pause ;  but,  thanks  to  his  true 
map,  he  does  not  hopelessly  lose  his  way.  Nor,  to  this 
comparison,  can  it  be  an  adequate  objection,  that  the 
twistings  of  the  town  are  always  the  same,  and  those  of 
human  nature  subject  to  variation.  The  grand  points  of 
human  nature  are  the  same  to-day  they  were  a  thousand 
years  ago.  The  only  variability  in  them  is  in  expression, 
not  in  feature. 

But  as,  in  spite  of  seeming   discouragement,  some 


WORTH     THE      CONSIDERATION,     ETC.      107 

mathematicians  are  yet  in  hopes  of  hitting  upon  an  exact 
method  of  determining  the  longitude,  the  more  earnest 
psychologists  may,  in  the  face  of  previous  failures,  still 
cherish  expectations  with  regard  to  some  mode  of  infal 
libly  discovering  the  heart  of  man. 

But  enough  has  been  said  by  way  of  apology  for 
whatever  may  have  seemed  amiss  or  obscure  in  the 
character  of  the  merchant ;  so  nothing  remains  but  to  turn 
to  our  comedy,  or,  rather,  to  pass  from  the  comedy  of 
thought  to  that  of  action. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

AN  OLD  MISER,  UPON  SUITABLE  REPRESENTATIONS,  IS    PREVAILED  UPON    TO 
VENTURE    AN    INVESTMENT. 

THE  merchant  having  withdrawn,  the  other  remained 
seated  alone  for  a  time,  with  the  air  of  one  who,  after 
having  conversed  with  some  excellent  man,  carefully 
ponders  what  fell  from  him,  however  intellectually  in 
ferior  it  may  be,  that  none  of  the  profit  may  be  lost  5 
happy  if  from  any  honest  word  he  has  heard  he  can 
derive  some  hint,  which,  besides  confirming  him  in  the 
theory  of  virtue,  may,  likewise,  serve  for  a  finger-post 
to  virtuous  action. 

Ere  long  his  eye  brightened,  as  if  some  such  hint  was 
now  caught.  He  rises,  book  in  hand,  quits  the  cabin, 
and  enters  upon  a  sort  of  corridor,  narrow  and  dim,  a 
by-way  to  a  retreat  less  ornate  and  cheery  than  the 
former ;  in  short,  the  emigrants'  quarters ;  but  which, 
owing  to  the  present  trip  being  a  down-river  one,  will 
doubtless  be  found  comparatively  tenantless.  Owing 
to  obstructions  against  the  side  windows,  the  whole 
place  is  dim  and  dusky;  very  much  so,  for  the  most 
part;  yet,  by  starts,  haggardly  lit  here  and  there  by 
narrow,  capricious  sky-lights  in  the  cornices.  But  there 


AN     OLD     MISER,     ETC.  109 

would  seem  no  special  need  for  light,  the  place  being 
designed  more  to  pass  the  night  in,  than  the  day ; 
in  brief,  a  pine  barrens  dormitory,  of  knotty  pine  bunks, 
without  bedding.  As  with  the  nests  in  the  geometrical 
towns  of  the  associate  penguin  and  pelican,  these  bunks 
were  disposed  with  Philadelphian  regularity,  but,  like 
the  cradle  of  the  oriole,  they  were  pendulous,  and, 
moreover,  were,  so  to  speak,  three-story  cradles;  the 
description  of  one  of  which  will  suffice  for  all. 

Four  ropes,  secured  to  the  ceiling,  passed  downwards 
through  auger-holes  bored  in  the  corners  of  three  rough 
planks,  which  at  equal  distances  rested  on  knots  verti 
cally  tied  in  the  ropes,  the  lowermost  plank  but  an  inch 
or  two  from  the  floor,  the  whole  affair  resembling,  on  a 
large  scale,  rope  book-shelves ;  only,  instead  of  hanging 
firmly  against  a  wall,  they  swayed  to  and  fro  at  the 
least  suggestion  of  motion,  but  were  more  especial \y 
lively  upon  the  provocation  of  a  green  emigrant  sprawl 
ing  into  one,  and  trying  to  lay  himself  out  there,  when 
the  cradling  would  be  such  as  almost  to  toss  him  back 
whence  he  came.  In  consequence,  one  less  inexperi 
enced,  essaying,  repose  on  the  uppermost  shelf,  was  lia 
ble  to  serious  disturbance,  should  a  raw  beginner  select 
a  shelf  beneath.  Sometimes  a  throng  of  poor  emigrants, 
coming  at  night  in  a  sudden  rain  to  occupy  these  oriole 
nests,  would — through  ignorance  of  their  peculiarity — 
bring  about  such  a  rocking  uproar  of  carpentry,  joining 
to  it  such  an  uproar  of  exclamations,  that  it  seemed  as  if 
some  luckless  ship,  with  all  its  crew,  was  being  dashed 
to  pieces  among  the  rocks.  They  were  beds  devised 


110  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

by  some  sardonic  foe  of  poor  travelers,  to  deprive  them 
of  that  tranquillity  which  should  precede,  as  well  as 
accompany,  slumber. — Procrustean  beds,  on  whose  hard 
grain  humble  worth  and  honesty  writhed,  still  invoking 
repose,  while  but  torment  responded.  Ah,  did  any  one 
make  such  a  bunk  for  himself,  instead  of  having  it  made 
for  him,  it  might  be  just,  but  how  cruel,  to  say,  You 
must  lie  on  it ! 

But,  purgatory  as  the  place  would  appear,  the 
stranger  advances  into  it ;  and,  like  Orpheus  in  his  gay 
descent  to  Tartarus,  lightly  hums  to  himself  an  opera 
snatch. 

Suddenly  there  is  a  rustling,  then  a  creaking,  one  of 
the  cradles  swings  out  from  a  murky  nook,  a  sort  of 
wasted  penguin-flipper  is  supplicatingly  put  forth, 
while  a  wail  like  that  of  Dives  is  heard :— "  Water, 
water !" 

It  was  the  miser  of  whom  the  merchant  had  spoken. 

Swift  as  a  sister-of- charity,  the  stranger  hovers  over 
him  : — 

"  My  poor,  poor  sir,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"  Ugh,  ugh — water !" 

Darting  out,  he  procures  a  glass,  returns,  and,  holding  it 
to  the  sufferer's  lips,  supports  his  head  while  he  drinks : 
"  And  did  they  let  you  lie  here,  my  poor  sir,  racked 
with  this  parching  thirst  ?" 

The  miser,  a  lean  old  man,  whose  flesh  seemed  salted 
cod-fish,  dry  as  combustibles ;  head,  like  one  whittled 
by  an  idiot  out  of  a  knot ;  flat,  bony  mouth,  nipped 
between  buzzard  nose  and  chin ;  expression,  flitting 


AN     OLD     MISER,     ETC.  Ill 

between  hunks  and  imbecile — now  one,  now  the  other — 
he  made  no  response.  His  eyes  were  closed,  his  cheek 
lay  upon  an  old  white  moleskin  coat,  rolled  under  his 
head  like  a  wizened  apple  upon  a  grimy  snow-bank. 

Revived  at  last,  he  inclined  towards  his  ministrant, 
and,  in  a  voice  disastrous  with  a  cough,  said: — "I  am 
old  and  miserable,  a  poor  beggar,  not  worth  a  shoe 
string — how  can  I  repay  you  ?" 

"  By  giving  me  your  confidence." 

"Confidence!"  he  squeaked,  with  changed  manner, 
while  the  pallet  swung,  "  little  left  at  my  age,  but  take 
the  stale  remains,  and  welcome." 

"Such  as  it  is,  though,  you  give  it.  Very  good. 
Now  give  me  a  hundred  dollars." 

Upon  this  the  miser  was  all  panic.  His  hands 
groped  towards  his  waist,  then  suddenly  flew  upward 
beneath  his  moleskin  pillow,  and  there  lay  clutching 
something  out  of  sight.  Meantime,  to  himself  he  inco 
herently  mumbled: — "Confidence?  Cant,  gammon! 
Confidence  ?  hum,  bubble  ! — Confidence  ?  fetch,  gouge  ! 
— Hundred  dollars? — hundred  devils  !" 

Half  spent,  he  lay  mute  awhile,  then  feebly  raising 
himself,  in  a  voice  for  the  moment  made  strong  by  the 
sarcasm,  said,  "A  hundred  dollars?  rather  high  price  to 
put  upon  confidence.  But  don't  you  see  I  am  a  poor, 
old  rat  here,  dying  in  the  wainscot?  You  have  served 
me ;  but,  wretch  that  I  am,  I  can  but  cough  you  my 
thanks, — ugh,  ugh,  ugh!" 

This  time  his  cough  was  so  violent  that  its  convul 
sions  were  imparted  to  the  plank,  which  swung  him 


112  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

about  like  a  stone  in  a  sling  preparatory  to  its  being 
hurled. 

«  Ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !" 

"  What  a  shocking  cough.  I  wish,  my  friend,  the 
herb-doctor  was  here  now  ;  abox  of  his  Omni-Balsamic 
Reinvigorator  would  do  you  good." 

"Ugh,  ugh,  ugh!" 

"  I've  a  good  mind  to  go  find  him.  He's  aboard 
somewhere.  I  saw  his  long,  snuff-colored  surtout. 
Trust  me,  his  medicines  are  the  best  in  the 
world." 

"Ugh,  ugh,  ugh!" 

"  Oh,  how  sorry  I  am." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  squeaked  the  other  again,  "  but  go, 
get  your  charity  out  on  deck.  There  parade  the  pursy 
peacocks;  they  don't  cough  down  here  in  desertion  and 
darkness,  like  poor  old  me.  Look  how  scaly  a  pauper  I 
am,  clove  with  this  churchyard  cough.  Ugh,  ugh, 
ugh!" 

"Again,  how  sorry  I  feel,  not  only  for  your  cough, 
but  your  poverty.  Such  a  rare  chance  made  unavail 
able.  Did  you  have  but  the  .sum  named,  how  I  could 
invest  it  for  you.  Treble  profits.  But  confidence — 
I  fear  that,  even  had  you  the  precious  cash,  you 
would  not  ,have  the  more  precious  confidence  I  speak 
of." 

"  Ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !"  flightily  raising  himself.  "  What's 
that?  How,  how?  Then  you  don't  want  the  money 
for  yourself?" 

"  My  dear,  dear  sir,  how  could  you  impute   to  me 


AN     OLD     MISER,     ETC.  113 

such  preposterous  self-seeking?  To  solicit  out  of  hand, 
for  my  private  behoof,  an  hundred  dollars  from  a  perfect 
stranger  ?  I  am  not  mad,  my  dear  sir." 

"  How,  how?"  still  more  bewildered,  "  do  you,  then, 
go  about  the  world,  gratis,  seeking  to  invest  people's 
money  for  them  ?" 

"  My  humble  profession,  sir.  I  live  not  for  myself ; 
but  the  world  will  not  have  confidence  in  me,  and  yet 
confidence  in  me  were  great  gain." 

"  But,  but,"  in  a  kind  of  vertigo,  "what  do — do  you 
do — do  with  people's  money  ?  Ugh,  ugh  !  How  is  the 
gain  made  ?" 

"  To  tell  that  would  ruin  me.  That  known,  every 
one  would  be  going  into  the  business,  and  it  would  be 
overdone.  A  secret,  a  mystery — all  I  have  to  do  with 
you  is  to  receive  your  confidence,  and  all  you  have  to 
do  with  me  is,  in  due  time,  to  receive  it  back,  thrice 
paid  in  trebling  profits." 

"What,  what?"  imbecility  in  the  ascendant  once 
more ;  "  but  the  vouchers,  the  vouchers,"  suddenly 
hunkish  again. 

"  Honesty's  best  voucher  is  honesty's  face." 

"  Can't  see  yours,  though,"  peering  through  the  ob 
scurity. 

From  this  last  alternating  flicker  of  rationality,  the 
miser  fell  back,  sputtering,  into  his  previous  gibberish, 
but  it  took  now  an  arithmetical  turn.  Eyes  closed,  he 
lay  muttering  to  himself — 

"  One  hundred,  one  hundred — two  hundred,  two  hun 
dred — three  hundred,  three  hundred." 


114  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

He  opened  his  eyes,  feebly  stared,  and  still  more,  fee 
bly  said — 

"It's  a  little  dim  here,  ain't  it?  Ugh.  ugh!  But, 
as  well  as  my  poor  old  eyes  can  see,  you  look  hon 
est.'-' 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that." 

"  If— if,  now,  I  should  put" — trying  to  raise  himself, 
but  vainly,  excitement  having  all  but  exhausted  him — 
"  if,  if  now,  I  should  put,  put — " 

"  No  ifs.  Downright  confidence,  or  none.  So  help 
me  heaven,  I  will  have  no  half-confidences." 

He  said  it  with  an  indifferent  and  superior  air,  and 
seemed  moving  to  go. 

"  Don't,  don't  leave  me,  friend  ;  bear  with  me  ;  age 
can't  help  some  distrust ;  it  can't,  friend,  it  can't.  Ugh, 
ugh,  ugh  !  Oh,  I  am  so  old  and  miserable.  I  ought  to 
have  a  guardeean.  Tell  me,  if -7-" 

"  If?     No  more  !" 

"  Stay !  how  soon — ugh,  ugh  ! — would  my  money  be 
trebled?  How  soon,  friend?" 

"You  won't  confide.     Good-bye  !" 

"  Stay,  stay,"  falling  back  now  like  an  infant,  "  I 
confide,  I  confide  ;  help,  friend,  my  distrust!" 

From  an  old  buckskin  pouch,  tremulously  dragged 
forth,  ten  hoarded  eagles,  tarnished  into  the  appearance 
of  ten  old  horn-buttons,  were  taken,  and  half-eagerly, 
half-reluctantly,  offered. 

"  I  know  not  whether  I  should  accept  this  slack  con 
fidence,"  said  the  other  coldly,  receiving  the  gold,  "  but 
an  eleventh-hour  confidence,  a  sick-bed  confidence,  a 


AN     OLD     MISER,     ETC.  115 

distempered,  death-bed  confidence,  after  all.  Give  me 
the  healthy  confidence  of  healthy  men,  with  their 
healthy  wits  about  them.  But  let  that  pass.  All  right. 
Good-bye!" 

"  Nay,  back,  back — receipt,  my  receipt !  Ugh,  ugh, 
ugh  !  Who  are  you  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  Where  go 
you  ?  My  gold,  my  gold  !  Ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !" 

But,  unluckily  for  this  final  flicker  of  reason,  the 
stranger  was  now  beyond  ear-shot,  nor  was  any  one  else 
within  hearing  of  so  feeble  a  call. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

A  SICK  MAN,  AFTER  SOME  IMPATIENCE,  IS    INDUCED  TO  BECOME  A  PATIENT 

THE  sky  slides  into  blue,  the  bluffs  into  bloom ;  the 
rapid  Mississippi  expands ;  runs  sparkling  and  gurgling, 
all  over  in  eddies  ;  one  magnified  wake  of  a  seventy-four. 
The  sun  comes  out,  a  golden  huzzar,  from  his  tent,  flash 
ing  his  helm  on  the  world.  All  things,  warmed  in  the 
landscape,  leap.  Speeds  the  daedal  boat  as  a  dream. 

But,  withdrawn  in  a  corner,  wrapped  about  in  a  shawl, 
sits  an  unparticipating  man,  visited,  but  not  warmed,  by 
the  sun — a  plant  whose  hour  seems  over  , while  buds 
are  blowing  and  seeds  are  astir.  On  a  stool  at  his  left 
sits  a  stranger  in  a  snuff-colored  surtout,  the  collar 
thrown  back  ;  his  hand  waving  in  persuasive  gesture,  his 
eye  beaming  with  hope.  But  not  easily  may  hope  be 
awakened  in  one  long  tranced  into  hopelessness  by  a 
chronic  complaint. 

To  some  remark  the  sick  man ,  by  word  or  look, 
seemed  to  have  just  made  an  impatiently  querulous 
answer,  when,  with  a  deprecatory  air,  the  other  re 
sumed  : 

"  Nay,  think  not  I  seek  to  cry  up  my  treatment  by 


A     SICK     MAN,     ETC.  117 

crying  down  that  of  others.  And  yet,  when  one  is  con 
fident  he  has  truth  on  his  side,  and  that  it  is  not  on  the 
other,  it  is  no  very  easy  thing  to  be  charitable ;  not  that 
temper  is  the  bar,  but  conscience;  for  charity  would 
beget  toleration,  you  know,  which  is  a  kind  of  implied 
permitting,  and  in  effect  a  kind  of  countenancing  ;  and 
that  which  is  countenanced  is  so  far  furthered.  But 
should  untruth  be  furthered?  Still,  while  for  the 
world's  good  I  refuse  to  further  the  cause  of  these  mine 
ral  doctors,  I  would  fain  regard  them,  not  as  willful 
wrong-doers,  but  good  Samaritans  erring.  And  is  this 
— I  put  it  to  you,  sir — is  this  the  view  of  an  arrogant 
rival  and  pretender  ?" 

His  physical  power  all  dribbled  and  gone,  the  sick 
man  replied  not  by  voice  or  by  gesture ;  but,  with  feeble 
dumb-show  of  his  face,  seemed  to  be  saying  "  Pray  leave 
me  ;  who  was  ever  cured  by  talk  ?" 

But  the  other,  as  if  not  unused  to  make  allowances 
for  such  despondency,  proceeded ;  and  kindly,  yet  firmly: 

"  You  tell  me,  that  by  advice  of  an  eminent  physiolo 
gist  in  Louisville,  you  took  tincture  of  iron.  For  what  ? 
To  restore  your  lost  energy.  And  how  ?  Why,  in 
healthy  subjects  iron  is  naturally  found  in  the  blood,  and 
iron  in  the  bar  is  strong ;  ergo,  iron  is  the  source  of 
animal  invigoration.  But  you  being  deficient  in  vigor, 
it  follows  that  the  cause  is  deficiency  of  iron.  Iron,  then, 
must  be  put  into  you ;  and  so  your  tincture.  Now  as 
to  the  theory  here,  I  am  mute.  But  in  modesty  assum 
ing  its  truth,  and  then,  as  a  plain  man  viewing  that 
theory  in  practice,  I  would  respectfully  question  your 


118  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

eminent  physiologist:  'Sir,' I  would  say, 'though  by  natu 
ral  processes,  lifeless  natures  taken  as  nutriment  become 
vitalized,  yet  is  a  lifeless  nature,  under  any  circum 
stances,  capable  of  a  living  transmission,  with  all  its  quali 
ties  as  a  lifeless  nature  unchanged  ?  If,  sir,  nothing  can 
be  incorporated  with  the  living  body  but  by  assimilation, 
and  if  that  implies  the  conversion  of  one  thing  to  a 
different  thing  (as,  in  a  lamp,  oil  is  assimilated  into 
flame),  is  it,  in  this  view,  likely,  that  by  banqueting  on 
fat,  Calvin  Edson  will  fatten  ?  That  is,  will  what  is  fat 
on  the  board  prove  fat  on  the  bones?  If  it  will,  then, 
sir,  what  is  iron  in  the  vial  will  prove  iron  in  the  vein.' 
Seems  that  conclusion  too  confident  ?" 

But  the  sick  man  again  turned  his  dumb-show  look, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "Pray  leave  me.  Why,  with  painful 
words,  hint  the  vanity  of  that  which  the  pains  of  this 
body  have  too  painfully  proved  ?" 

But  the  other,  as  if  unobservant  of  that  querulous 
look,  went  on : 

"But  this  notion,  that  science  can  play  farmer  to  the 
flesh,  making  there  what  living  soil  it  pleases,  seems  not 
so  strange  as  that  other  conceit — that  science  is  now-a- 
days  so  expert  that,  in  consumptive  cases,  as  yours,  it 
can,  by  prescription  of  the  inhalation  of  certain  vapors, 
achieve  the  sublimest  act  of  omnipotence,  breathing 
into  all  but  lifeless  dust  the  breath  of  life.  For  did  you 
not  tell  me,  my  poor  sir,  that  by  order  of  the  great 
chemist  in  Baltimore,  for  three  weeks  you  were  never 
driven  out  without  a  respirator,  and  for  a  given  time  of 
every  day  sat  bolstered  up  in  a  sort  of  gasometer,  inspir- 


A      SICK      MAN,      ETC.  119 

ing  vapors  generated  by  the  burning  of  drugs  ?  as  if  this 
concocted  atmosphere  of  man  were  an  antidote  to  the 
poison  of  God's  natural  air.  Oh,  who  can  wonder  at 
that  old  reproach  against  science,  that  it  is  atheistical  ? 
And  here  is  my  prime  reason  for  opposing  these  chemi 
cal  practitioners,  who  have  sought  out  so  many  inven 
tions.  For  what  do  their  inventions  indicate,  unless  it 
be  that  kind  and  degree  of  pride  in  human  skill,  which 
seems  scarce  compatible  with  reverential  dependence 
upon  the  power  above  ?  Try  to  rid  my  mind  of  it  as  I 
may,  yet  still  these  chemical  practitioners  with  their 
tinctures,  and  fumes,  and  braziers,  and  occult  incant 
ations,  seem  to  me  like  Pharaoh's  vain  sorcerers,  trying 
to  beat  down  the  will  of  heaven.  Day  and  night,  in  all 
charity,  I  intercede  for  them,  that  heaven  may  not,  in 
its  own  language,  be  provoked  to  anger  with  their  in 
ventions  ;  may  not  take  vengeance  of  their  inventions.  A 
thousand  pities  that  you  should  ever  have  been  in  the 
hands  of  these  Egyptians." 

But  again  came  nothing  but  the  dumb-show  look,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "Pray  leave  me ;  quacks,  and  indignation 
against  quacks,  both  are  vain." 

But,  once  more,  the  other  went  on :  "  How  different 
we  herb-doctors !  who  claim  nothing,  invent  nothing ; 
but  staff  in  hand,  in  glades,  and  upon  hillsides,  go  about 
in  nature,  humbly  seeking  her  cures.  True  Indian  doc 
tors,  though  not  learned  in  names,  we  are  not  unfamiliar 
with  essences — successors  of  Solomon  the  Wise,  who 
knew  all  vegetables,  from  the  cedar  of  Lebanon,  to  the 
hyssop  on  the  wall.  Yes,  Solomon  was  the  first  of 


120  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

herb-doctors.  Nor  were  the  virtues  of  herbs  unhonored 
by  yet  older  ages.  Is  it  not  writ,  that  on  a  moonlight 
night, 

"  Medea  gathered  the  enchanted  herbs 
That  did  renew  old  JEson  ?" 

9 

Ah,  would  you  but  have  confidence,  you  should  be 
the  new  -ZEson,  and  I  your  Medea.  A  few  vials  of  my 
Omni-Balsamic  Reinvigorator  would,  I  am  certain,  give 
you  some  strength." 

Upon  this,  indignation  and  abhorrence  seemed  to 
work  by  their  excess  the  effect  promised  of  the  balsam. 
Roused  from  that  long  apathy  of  impotence,  the  cadaver 
ous  man  started,  and,  in  a  voice  that  was  as  the  sound 
of  obstructed  air  gurgling  through  a  maze  of  broken 
honey-combs,  cried :  "  Begone !  You  are  all  alike.  The 
name  of  doctor,  the  dream  of  helper,  condemns  you.  For 
years  I  have  been  but  a  gallipot  for  you  experimentizers 
to  rinse  your  experiments  into,  and  now,  in  this  livid 
skin,  partake  of  the  nature  of  my  contents.  Begone ! 
I  hate  ye." 

"  I  were  inhuman,  could  I  take  affront  at  a  want  of 
confidence,  born  of  too  bitter  an  experience  of  betrayers. 
Yet,  permit  one  who  is  not  without  feeling — " 

"  Begone !  Just  in  that  voice  talked  to  me,  not  six 
months  ago,  the  German  doctor  at  the  water  cure,  from 
which  I  now  return,  six  months  and  sixty  pangs  nigher 
my  grave."  . 

"The  water-cure?  Oh,  fatal  delusion  of  the  well- 
meaning  Preisnitz ! — Sir,  trust  me — " 


A      SICK      MAX,      ETC.  121 

"  Begone  !" 

"  Nay,  an  invalid  should  not  always  have  his  own 
way.  Ah,  sir,  reflect  how  untimely  this  distrust  in  one 
like  you.  How  weak  you  are ;  and  weakness,  is  it  not 
the  time  for  confidence?  Yes,  when  through  weakness 
everything  bids  despair,  then  is  the  time  to-get  strength 
by  confidence." 

Relenting  in  his  air,  the  sick  man  cast  upon  him  a 
long  glance  of  beseeching,  as  if  saying,  "  With  confidence 
must  come  hope  ;  and  how  can  hope  be?" 

The  herb-doctor  took  a  sealed  paper  box  from  his 
surtout  pocket,  and  holding  it  towards  him,  said  solemnly, 
*'  Turn  not  away.  This  may  be  the  last  time  of  health's 
asking.  Work  upon  yourself;  invoke  confidence,  though 
from  ashes ;  rouse  it ;  for  your  life,  rouse  it,  and  invoke 
it,  I  say." 

The  other  trembled,  was  silent ;  and  then,  a  little 
commanding  himself,  asked  the  ingredients  of  the  medi 
cine. 

"Herbs." 

"What  herbs?'  And  the  nature  of  them?  And  the 
reason  for  giving  them?" 

"It  cannot  be  made  known." 

"  Then  I  will  none  of  you." 

Sedately  observant  of  the  juiceless,  joyless  form  be 
fore  him,  the  herb-doctor  was  mute  a  moment,  then 
said: — "  I  give  up." 

"How?" 

"  You  are  sick,  and  a  philosopher." 

"No,  no;— not  the  last."' 


122  THE     C  O  N  F  I  D  E  N  C  E  -  M  A  N  . 

"  But,  to  demand  the  ingredient,  with  the  reason  for 
giving,  is  the  mark  of  a  philosopher;  just  as  the  conse 
quence  is  the  penalty  of  a  fool.  A  sick  philosopher  is 
incurable?" 

"Why?" 

"  Because  he  has  no  confidence." 

"  How  does  that  make  him  incurable?" 

"  Because  either  he  spurns  his  powder,  or,  if  he  take 
it,  it  proves  a  blank  cartridge,  though  the  same  given  to 
a  rustic  in  like  extremity,  would  act  like  a  charm.  I 
am  no  materialist ;  but  the  mind  so  acts  upon  the  body, 
that  if  the  one  have  no  confidence,  neither  has  the  other." 

Again,  the  sick  man  appeared  not  unmoved.  He 
seemed  to  be  thinking  what  in  candid  truth  could  be 
said  to  all  this.  At  length,  "  You  talk  of  confidence. 
How  comes  it  that  when  brought  low  himself,  the  herb- 
doctor,  who  was  most  confident  to  prescribe  in  other 
cases,  proves  least  confident  to  prescribe  in  his  own ; 
having  small  confidence  in  himself  for  himself?" 

"  But  he  has  confidence  in  the  brother  he  calls  in. 
And  that  he  does  so,  is  no  reproach  to  him,  since  he 
knows  that  when  the  body  is  prostrated,  the  mind  is 
not  erect.  Yes,  in  this  hour  the  herb-doctor  does  dis 
trust  himself,  but  not  his  art." 

The  sick  man's  knowledge  did  not  warrant  him  to 
gainsay  this.  But  he  seemed  not  grieved  at  it ;  glad  to 
be  confuted  in  a  way  tending  towards  his  wish. 

"Then  you  give  me  hope  ?"  his  sunken  eye  turned  up. 

"  Hope  is  proportioned  to  confidence.  How  much 
confidence  you  give  me,  so  "much  hope  do  I  give  you. 


A      SICK      MAX,      ETC.  123 

For  this,"  lifting  the  box,  "if  all  depended  upon  this,  I 
should  rest.  It  is  nature's  own." 

"  Nature!" 

"Why  do  you  start?" 

"  I  know  not,"  with  a  sort  of  shudder,  "  but  I  have 
heard  of  a  book  entitled  'Nature  in  Disease.'  " 

"  A  title  I  cannot  approve ;  it  is  suspiciously  scien 
tific.  'Nature  in  Disease?'  As  if  nature,  divine  na 
ture,  were  aught  but  health ;  as  if  through  nature  dis 
ease  is  decreed !  But  did  I  not  before  hint  of  the  ten 
dency  of  science,  that  forbidden  tree  ?  Sir,  if  despond 
ency  is  yours  from  recalling  that  title,  dismiss  it.  Trust 
me,  nature  is  health  ;  for  health  is  good,  and  nature 
cannot  work  ill.  As  little  can  she  work  error.  Get 
nature,  and  you  get  well.  Now,  I  repeat,  this  medicine 
is  nature's  own." 

Again  the  sick  man  could  not,  according  to  his  light, 
conscientiously  disprove  what  was  said.  Neither,  as 
before,  did  he  seem  over-anxious  to  do  so  ;  the  less,  as 
in  his  sensitiveness  it  seemed  to  him,  that  hardly  could 
he  offer  so  to  do  without  something  like  the  appearance 
of  a  kind  of  implied  irreligion  ;  nor  in  his  heart  was  he 
ungrateful,  that  since  a  spirit  opposite  to  that  pervaded 
all  the  herb-doctor's  hopeful  words,  therefore,  for  hope 
fulness,  he  (the  sick  man)  had  not  alone  medical  warrant, 
but  also  doctrinal. 

"  Then  you  do  really  think,"  hectically,  "  that  if  I 
take  this  medicine,"  mechanically  reaching  out  for  it, 
"  I  shall  regain  my  health  ?" 

"I  will  not  encourage  false  hopes,"  relinquishing  to 


124  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

him  the  box,  "I  will  be  frank  with  you.  Though 
frankness  is  not  always  the  weakness  of  the  mineral 
practitioner,  yet  the  herb  doctor  must  be  frank,  or 
nothing.  Now  then,  sir,  in  your  case,  a  radical  cure — 
such  a  cure,  understand,  as  should  make  you  robust — 
such  a  cure,  sir,  I  do  not  and  cannot  promise." 

"  Oh,  you  need  not .'  only  restore  me  the  power  of 
being  something  else  to  others  than  a  burdensome  care, 
and  to  myself  a  droning  grief.  Only  cure  me  of  this 
misery  of  weakness ;  only  make  me  so  that  I  can  walk 
about  in  the  sun  and  not  draw  the  flies  to  me,  as  lured 
by  the  coming  of  decay.  Only  do  that — but  that." 

"  You  ask  not  much  ;  you  are  wise  ;  not  in  vain  have 
you  suffered.  That  little  you  ask,  I  think,  can  be 
granted.  But  remember,  not  in  a  day,  nor  a  week,  nor 
perhaps  a  month,  but  sooner  or  later ;  I  say  not  exactly 
when,  for  I  am  neither  prophet  nor  charlatan.  Still,  if, 
according  to  the  directions  in  your  box  there,  you  take 
my  medicine  steadily,  without  assigning  an  especial  day, 
near  or  remote,  to  discontinue  it,  then  may  you  calmly 
look  for  some  eventual  result  of  good.  But  again  I  say, 
you  must  have  confidence." 

Feverishly  he  replied  that  he  now  trusted  he  had,  and 
hourly  should  pray  for  its'  increase.  When  suddenly 
relapsing  into  one  of  those  strange  caprices  peculiar  to 
some  invalids,  he  added  :  "  But  to  one  like  me,  it  is  so 
hard,  so  hard.  The  most  confident  hopes  so  often  have 
failed  me,  and  as  often  have  I  vowed  never,  no,  never, 
to  trust  them  again.  Oh,"  feebly  wringing  his  hands, 
"  you  do  not  know,  you  do  not  know." 


A      SICK      MAN,      ETC.  125 

"  I  know  this,  that  never  did  a  right  confidence  come 
to  naught.  But  time  is  short ;  you  hold  your  cure,  to 
retain  or  reject." 

" I  retain,"  with  a  clinch,  "and  now  how  much  ?" 

"  As  much  as  you  can  evoke  from  your  heart  and 
heaven." 

"  How? — the  price  of  this  medicine  ?" 

"  I  thought  it  was  confidence  you  meant ;  how  much 
confidence  you  should  have.  The  medicine, — that  is 
half  a  dollar  a  vial.  Your  box  holds  six." 

The  money  was  paid. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  herb-doctor,  "my  business  calls 
me  away,  and  it  may  so  be  that  I  shall  never  see  you 
again;  if  then — " 

He  paused,  for  the  sick  man's  countenance  fell  blank. 

"  Forgive  me,"  cried  the  other,  "  forgive  that  impru 
dent  phrase  l  never  see  you  again.'  Though  I  solely 
intended  it  with  reference  to  myself,  yet  I  had  forgotten 
what  your  sensitiveness  might  be.  I  repeat,  then,  that 
it  may  be  that  we  shall  not  soon  have  a  second  interview, 
so  that  hereafter,  should  another  of  my  boxes  be  needed, 
you  may  not  be  able  to  replace  it  except  by  purchase  at 
the  shops  ;  and,  in  so  doing,  you  may  run  more  or  less 
risk  of  taking  some  not  salutary  mixture.  For  such  is 
the  popularity  of  the  Omni-Balsamic  Eeinvigorator — 
thriving  not  by  the  credulity  of  the  simple,  but  the 
trust  of  the  wise — that  certain  contrivers  have  not  been 
idle,  though  I  would  not,  indeed,  hastily  affirm  of  them 
that  they  are  aware  of  the  sad  consequences  to  the 
public.  Homicides  and  murderers,  some  call  those  con- 


126  THE     t!  O  N  F  I  D  E  X  C  E  -  M  AN  . 

trivers  ;  but  I  do  not ;  for  murder  (if  such  a  crime  be 
possible)  comes  from  the  heart,  and  these  men's  motives 
come  from  the  purse.  Were  they  not  in  poverty,  I 
think  they  would  hardly  do  what  they  do.  Still,  the 
public  interests  forbid  that  I  should  let  their  needy 
device  for  a  living  succeed.  In  short,  I  have  adopted 
precautions.  Take  the  wrapper  from  any  of  my  vials 
and  hold  it  to  the  light,  you  will  see  water-marked  in 
capitals  the  word  '  confidence*  which  is  the  countersign 
of  the  medicine,  as  I  wish  it  was  of  the  world.  The 
wrapper  bears  that  mark  or  else  the  medicine  is  coun 
terfeit.  But  if  still  any  lurking  doubt  should  remain, 
pray  enclose  the  wrapper  to  this  address,"  handing  a 
card,  "  and  by  return  mail  I  will  answer." 

At  first  the  sick  man  listened,  with  the  air  of  vivid 
interest,  but  gradually,  while  the  other  was  still  talking, 
another  strange  caprice  came  over  him,  and  he  presented 
the  aspect  of  the  most  calamitous  dejection. 

"How  now?"  said  the  herb-doctor. 

"You  told  me  to  have  confidence,  said  that  confi 
dence  was  indispensable,  and  here  you  preach  to  me 
distrust.  Ah,  truth  will  out !" 

"  I  told  you,  you  must  have  confidence,  unquestioning 
confidence,  I  meant  confidence  in  the  genuine  medicine, 
and  the  genuine  wze." 

"  But  in  your  absence,  buying  vials  purporting  to  be 
yours,  it  seems  I  cannot  have  unquestioning  confi 
dence." 

"  Prove  all  the  vials  ;  trust  those  which  are  true." 

"  But  to  doubt,  to  suspect,  to  prove — to  have  all  this 


A      SICK      MAN,      ETC.  127 

wearing  work  to  be  doing  continually — how  opposed  to 
confidence.     It  is  evil !" 

"  From  evil  comes  good.  Distrust  is  a  stage  to 
confidence.  How  has  it  proved  in  our  interview?  But 
your  voice  is  husky  ;  I  have  let  you  talk  too  much. 
You  hold  your  cure  ;  I  leave  you.  But  stay — when  I 
hear  that  health  is  yours,  I  will  not,  like  some  I  know, 
vainly  make  boasts  ;  but,  giving  glory  where  all  glory  is 
due,  say,  with  the  devout  herb-doctor,  Japus  in  Virgil, 
when,  in  the  unseen  but  efficacious  presence  of  Venus, 
he  with  simples  healed  the  wound  of  -ZEneas  : — 

*  This  is  110  mortal  work,  no  cure  of  mine, 
Nor  art's  effect,  but  done  by  power  divine.' " 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

TOWARDS    THE    END     OP    WHICH     THE     HERB-DOCTOR     PROVES     HIMSELF    A 
FORGIVER    OP    INJURIES. 

IN  a  kind  of  ante-cabin,  a  number  of  respectable  look 
ing  people,  male  and  female,  way-passengers,  recently 
come  on  board,  are  listlessly  sitting  in  a  mutually  shy 
sort  of  silence. 

Holding  up  a  small,  square  bottle,  ovally  labeled 
with  the  engraving  of  a  countenance  full  of  soft  pity  as 
that  of  the  Romish-painted  Madonna,  the  herb-doctor 
passes  slowly  among  them,  benignly  urbane,  turning 
this  way  and  that,  saying  : — 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  hold  in  my  hand  here  the 
Samaritan  Pain  Dissuader,  thrice-blessed  discovery  of 
that  disinterested  friend  of  humanity  whose  portrait 
you  see.  Pure  vegetable  extract.  Warranted  to  re 
move  the  acutest  pain  within  less  than  ten  minutes. 
Five  hundred  dollars  to  be  forfeited  on  failure.  Espe 
cially  efficacious  in  heart  disease  and  tic-douloureux. 
Observe  the  expression  of  this  pledged  friend  of  hu 
manity.— Price  only  fifty  cents." 

In  vain.  After  the  first  idle  stare,  his  auditors — in 
pretty  good  health,  it  seemed — instead  of  encouraging 


THE      HERB^DOCTOR.  129 

his  politeness,  appeared,  if  anything,  impatient  of  it; 
and,  perhaps,  only  diffidence,  or  some  small  regard  for 
his  feelings,  prevented  them  from  telling  him  so.  But, 
insensible  to  their  coldness,  or  charitably,  overlooking  it, 
he  more  wooingly  than  ever  resumed  :  "  May  I  ven 
ture  upon  a  small  supposition?  Have  I  your  kind 
leave,  ladies  and  gentlemen  ?" 

To  which  modest  appeal,  no  one  had  the  kindness  to 
answer  a  syllable. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  resignedly,  "  silence  is  at  least  not 
denial,  and  may  be  consent.  My  supposition  is  this : 
possibly  some  lady,  here  present,  has  a  dear  friend  at 
home,  a  bed-ridden  sufferer  from  spinal  complaint.  If 
so,  what  gift  more  appropriate  to  that  sufferer  than  this 
tasteful  little  bottle  of  Pain  Dissuader  ?" 

Again  he  glanced  about  him,  but  met  much  the  same 
reception  as  before.  Those  faces,  alien  alike  to  sympa 
thy  or  surprise,  seemed  patiently  to  say,  "  We  are  trav 
elers  ;  and,  as  such,  must  expect  to  meet,  and  quietly 
put  up  with,  many  antic  fools,  and  more  antic  quacks." 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  (deferentially  fixing  his  eyes 
upon  their  now  self-complacent  faces)  ladies  and  gentle 
men,  might  I,  by  your  kind  leave,  venture  upon  one 
other  small  supposition  ?  It  is  this  :  that  there  is  scarce 
a  sufferer,  this  noonday,  writhing  on  his  bed,  but  in  his 
hour  he  sat  satisfactorily  healthy  and  happy ;  that  the 
Samaritan  Pain  Dissuader  is  the  one  only  balm  for 
that  to  which  each  living  creature — who  knows  ? — may 
be  a  draughted  victim,  present  or  prospective.  In 
short : — Oh,  Happiness  on  my  right  hand,  and  oh,  Se- 


130  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

curity  on  my  left,  can  ye  wisely  adore  a  Providence, 
and  not  think  it  wisdom  to  provide? — Provide  !"  (Up 
lifting  the  bottle.) 

What  immediate  effect,  if  any,  this  appeal  might  have 
had,  is  uncertain.  For  just  then  the  boat  touched  at  a 
houseless  landing,  scooped,  as  by  a  land-slide,  out  of 
sombre  forests;  back  through  which  led  a  road,  the 
sole  one,  which,  from  its  narrowness,  and  its  being 
walled  up  with  story  on  story  of  dusk,  matted  foliage, 
presented  the  vista  of  some  cavernous  old  gorge  in  a 
city,  like  haunted  Cock  Lane  in  London.  Issuing  from 
that  road,  and  crossing  that  landing,  there  stooped  his 
shaggy  form  in  the  door-way,  and  entered  the  ante- 
cabin,  with  a  step  so  burdensome  that  shot  seemed  in  his 
pockets,  a  kind  of  invalid  Titan  in  homespun ;  his  beard 
blackly  pendant,  like  the  Carolina-moss,  and  dank  with 
cypress  dew ;  his  countenance  tawny  and  shadowy  as 
an  iron-ore  country  in  a  clouded  day.  In  one  hand  he 
carried  a  heavy  walking-stick  of  swamp-oak ;  with  the 
other,  led  a  puny  girl,  walking  in  moccasins,  not  im 
probably  his  child,  but  evidently  of  alien  maternity, 
perhaps  Creole,  or  even  Camanche.  Her  eye  would 
have  been  large  for  a  woman,  and  was  inky  as  the  pools 
of  falls  among  mountain-pines.  An  Indian  blanket, 
orange-hued,  and  fringed  with  lead  tassel- work,  ap 
peared  that  morning  to  have  shielded  the  child  from 
heavy  showers.  Her  limbs  were  tremulous ;  she  seemed 
a  little  Cassandra,  in  nervousness. 

No  sooner  was  the  pair  spied  by  the  herb-doctor,  than 
with  a  cheerful  air,  both  arms  extended  like  a  host's,  he 


THE      HERB-DOCTOR.  131 

advanced,'  and  taking  the  child's  reluctant  hand,  said, 
trippingly :  "  On  your  travels,  ah,  my  little  May  Queen? 
Glad  to  see  you.  What  pretty  moccasins.  Nice  to 
dance  in."  Then  with  a  half  caper  sang — 

" '  Hey  diddle,  diddle,  the  cat  and  the  fiddle  ; 
The  cow  jumped  over  the  moon.' 

Come,  chirrup,  chirrup,  my  little  robin  !" 

Which  playful  welcome  drew  no  responsive  playful 
ness  from  the  child,  nor  appeared  to  gladden  or  concili 
ate  the  father ;  but  rather,  if  anything,  to  dash  the  dead 
weight  of  his  heavy-hearted  expression  with  a  smile 
hypoehondriacally  scornful. 

Sobering  down  now,  the  herb-doctor  addressed  the 
stranger  in  a  manly,  business-like  way — a  transition, 
which,  though  it  might  seem  a  little  abrupt,  did  not 
appear  constrained,  and,  indeed,  served  to  show  that  his 
recent  levity  was  less  the  habit  of  a  frivolous  nature, 
than  the  frolic  condescension  of  a  kindly  heart. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  he,  "  but,  if  I  err  not,  I  was  speak 
ing  to  you  the  other  day ; — on  a  Kentucky  boat,  wasn't 
it?" 

"  Never  to  me,"  was  the  reply ;  the  voice  deep  and 
lonesome  enough  to  have  come  from  the  bottom  of  an 
abandoned  coal-shaft. 

"  Ah  ! — But  am  I  again  mistaken,  (his  eye  falling  on 
the  swamp-oak  stick,)  or  don't  you  go  a  little  lame, 
sir?" 

"  Never  was  lame  in  my  life." 

"  Indeed?     I  fancied  I  had  perceived  not  a  limp,  but 


132  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

a  hitch,  a  slight  hitch ; — some  experience  in  these 
things — divined  some  hidden  cause  of  the  hitch — buried 
bullet,  may  be — some  dragoons  in  the  Mexican  war  dis 
charged  with  such,  you  know. — Hard  fate  !"  he  sighed, 
"  little  pity  for  it,  for  who  sees  it? — have  you  dropped 
anything  ?" 

Why,  there  is  no  telling,  but  the  stranger  was  bowed 
over,  and  might  have  seemed  bowing  for  the  purpose  of 
picking  up  something,  were  it  not  that,  as  arrested 
in  the  imperfect  posture,  he  for  the  moment  so  re 
mained  ;  slanting  his  tall  stature  like  a  mainmast  yield 
ing  to  the  gale,  or  Adam  to  the  thunder. 

The  little  child  pulled  him.  With  a  kind  of  a  surge 
he  righted  himself,  for  an  instant  looked  toward  the 
herb-doctor ;  but,  either  from  emotion  or  aversion,  or 
both  together,  withdrew  his  eyes,  saying  nothing.  Pres 
ently,  still  stooping,  he  seated  himself,  drawing  his  child 
between  his  knees,  his  massy  hands  tremulous,  and  still 
averting  his  face,  while  up  into  the  compassionate  one 
of  the  herb-doctor  the  child  turned  a  fixed,  melancholy 
glance  of  repugnance. 

The  herb-doctor  stood  observant  a  moment,  then 
said  : 

"Surely  you  have  pain,  strong  pain,  somewhere  ;  in 
strong  frames  pain  is  strongest.  Try,  now,  my  speci 
fic,"  (holding  it  up).  "  Do  but  look  at  the  expression 
of  this  friend  of  humanity.  Trust  me,  certain  cure  for 
any  pain  in  the  world.  Won't  you  look  ?" 

"  No,"  choked  the  other. 

"  Very  good.    Merry  time  to  you,  little  May  Queen." 


THE      HERB-DOCTOR.  133 

And  so,  as  if  he  would  intrude  his  cure  upon  no  one, 
moved  pleasantly  off,  again  crying  his  wares,  nor  now 
at  last  without  result.  A  new-comer,  not  from  the 
shore,  but  another  part  of  the  boat,  a  sickly  young 
Bian,  after  some  questions,  purchased  a  bottle.  Upon 
this,  others  of  the  company  began  a  little  to  wake  up 
as  it  were  ;  the  scales  of  indifference  or  prejudice  fell 
from  their  eyes ;  now,  at  last,  they  seemed  to  have  an 
inkling  that  here  was  something  not  undesirable  which 
might  be  had  for  the  buying. 

But  while,  ten  times  more  briskly  bland  than  ever, 
the  herb-doctor  was  driving  his  benevolent  trade,  ac 
companying  each  sale  with  added  praises  of  the  thing 
traded,  all  at  once  the  dusk  giant,  seated  at  some  dis 
tance,  unexpectedly  raised  his  voice  with — 

"  What  was  that  you  last  said?" 

The  question  was  put  distinctly,  yet  resonantly,  as 
when  a  great  clock-bell — stunning  admonisher — strikes 
one  ;  and  the  stroke,  though  single,  comes  bedded  in 
the  belfry  clamor. 

All  proceedings  were  suspended.  Hands  held  forth 
for  the  specific  were  withdrawn,  while  every  eye  turned 
towards  the  direction  whence  the  question  came.  But, 
no  way  abashed,  the  herb-doctor,  elevating  his  voice 
with  even  more  than  wonted  self-possession,  replied — 

"I  was  saying  what,  since  you  wish  it,  I  cheerfully 
repeat,  that  the  Samaritan  Pain  Dissuader,  which  I  here 
hold  in  my  hand,  will  either  cure  or  ease  any  pain 
you  please,  within  ten  minutes  after  its  application." 

"Does  it  produce  insensibility?" 


134  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"  By  no  means.  Not  the  least  of  its  merits  is,  that 
it  is  not  an  opiate.  It  kills  pain  without  killing 
feeling." 

"  You  lie  !  Some  pains  cannot  be  eased  but  by  pro 
ducing  insensibility,  and  cannot  be  cured  but  by  pro 
ducing  death." 

Beyond  this  the  dusk  giant  said  nothing ;  neither,  for 
impairing  the  other's  market,  did  there  appear  much 
need  to.  After  eying  the  rude  speaker  a  moment  with 
an  expression  of  mingled  admiration  and  consternation, 
the  company  silently  exchanged  glances  of  mutual  sym 
pathy  under  unwelcome  conviction.  Those  who  had 
purchased  looked  sheepish  or  ashamed  ;  and  a  cynical- 
looking  little  man,  with  a  thin  flaggy  beard,  and  a 
countenance  ever  wearing  the  rudiments  of  a  grin, 
seated  alone  in  a  corner  commanding  a  good  view  of 
the  scene,  held  a  rusty  hat  before  his  face. 

But,  again,  the  herb-doctor,  without  noticing  the  re 
tort,  overbearing  though  it  was,  began  his  panegyrics 
anew,  and  in  a  tone  more  assured  than  before,  going  so 
far  now  as  to  say  that  his  specific  was  sometimes  al 
most  as  effective  in  cases  of  mental  suffering  as  in  cases 
of  physical ;  or  rather,  to  be  more  precise,  in  cases 
when,  through  sympathy,  the  two  sorts  of  pain  coope 
rated  into  a  climax  of  both — in  such  cases,  he  said,  the 
specific"  had  done  very  well.  He  cited  an  example  : 
Only  three  bottles,  faithfully  taken,  cured  a  Louisiana 
widow  (for  three  weeks  sleepless  in  a  darkened  cham 
ber)  of  neuralgic  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  husband  and 
child,  swept  off  in  one  night  by  the  last  epidemic.  For 


THE      HERB-DOCTOR.  135 

the  truth  of  this,  a  printed  voucher  was  produced,  duly 
signed. 

While  he  was  reading  it  aloud,  a  sudden  side-blow 
all  but  felled  him. 

It  was  the  giant,  who,  with  a  countenance  lividly 
epileptic  with  hypochondriac  mania,  exclaimed — 

"  Profane  fiddler  on  heart-strings  !     Snake  !" 

More  he  would  have  added,  but,  convulsed,  could 
not ;  so,  without  another  word,  taking  up  the  child, 
who  had  followed  him,  went  with  a  rocking  pace  out  of 
the  cabin. 

"Regardless  of  decency,  and  lost  to  humanity!" 
exclaimed  the  herb-doctor,  with  much  ado  recovering 
himself.  Then,  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  exam 
ined  his  bruise,  not  omitting  to  apply  externally  a  lit 
tle  of  his  specific,  and  with  some  success,  as  it  would 
seem,  plained  to  himself: 

"  No,  no,  I  won't  seek  redress ;  innocence  is  my  re 
dress.  But,"  turning  upon  them  all,  "if  that  man's 
wrathful  blow  provokes  me  to  no  wrath,  should  his  evil 
distrust  arouse  you  to  distrust  ?  I  do  devoutly  hope," 
proudly  raising  voice  and  arm,  "  for  the  honor  of 
humanity — hope  that,  despite  this  coward  assault,  the 
Samaritan  Pain  Dissuader  stands  unshaken  in  the  confi 
dence  of  all  who  hear  me  !" 

But,  injured  as  he  was,  and  patient  under  it,  too, 
somehow  his  case  excited  as  little  compassion  as  his 
oratory  now  did  enthusiasm.  Still,  pathetic  to  the  last, 
he  continued  his.  appeals,  notwithstanding  the  frigid 
regard  of  the  company,  till,  suddenly  interrupting  him- 


136  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

self,  as  if  in  reply  to  a  quick  summons  from  without,  he 
said  hurriedly,  "I  come,  I  come,"  and  so,  with  every 
token  of  precipitate  dispatch,  out  of  the  cabin  the 
herb-doctor  went. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

INQUEST    INTO   THE    TRUE    CHARACTER   OF   THE    HERB-DOCTOR. 

"  SHA'N'T  see  that  fellow  again  in  a  hurry,"  remarked 
an  auburn-haired  gentleman,  to  his  neighbor  with  a  hook 
nose.  "  Never  knew  an  operator  so  completely  un 
masked." 

"But  do  you  think  it  the  fair  thing  to  unmask  an 
operator  that  way  ?" 

"Fair?     It  is  right." 

"  Supposing  that  at  high  'change  on  the  Paris  Bourse, 
Asmodeus  should  lounge  in,  distributing  hand-bills,  re 
vealing  the  true  thoughts  and  designs  of  all  the  opera 
tors  present — would  that  be  the  fair  thing  in  Asmodeus  ? 
Or,  as  Hamlet  says,  were  it  '  to  consider  the  thing  too 
curiously  V  "  ,.:«- 

"  We  won't  go  into  that.  But  since  you  admit  the 
fellow  to  be  a  knave — " 

"  I  don't  admit  it.  Or,  if  I  did,  I  take  it  back. 
Shouldn't  wonder  if,  after  all,  he  is  no  knave  at  all,  or, 
but  little  of  one.  What  can  you  prove  against  him  ?" 

"  I  can  prove  that  he  makes  dupes," 

"  Many  held  in  honor  do  the  same  ;  and  many,  not 
wholly  knaves,  do  it  too." 


13S  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  Plow  about  that  last  ?" 

"  He  is  not  wholly  at  heart  a  knave,  I  fancy,  among 
whose  dupes  is  himself.  Did  you  not  see  our  quack 
friend  apply  to  himself  his  own  quackery?  A  fana 
tic  quack  ;  essentially  a  fool,  though  effectively  a 
knave.'1 

Bending  over,  and  looking  down  between  his  knees 
on  the  floor,  the  auburn-haired  gentleman  meditatively 
scribbled  there  awhile  with  his  cane,  then,  glancing  up, 
said  : 

"  I  can't  conceive  how  you,  in  any  way,  can  hold 
him  a  fool.  How  he  talked — so  glib,  so  pat,  so 
well." 

"  A  smart  fool  always  talks  well ;  takes  a  smart  fool 
to  be  tonguey." 

In  much  the  same  strain  the  discussion  continued — 
the  hook-nosed  gentleman  talking  at  large  and  excel 
lently,  with  a  view  of  demonstrating  that  a  smart  fool 
always  talks  just  so.  Ere  long  he  talked  to  such  pur 
pose  as  almost  to  convince. 

Presently,  back  came  the  person  of  whom  the  auburn- 
haired  gentleman  had  predicted  that  he  would  not 
return.  Conspicuous  in  the  door-way  he  stood,  saying, 
in  a  clear  voice,  "  Is  the  agent  of  the  Seminole  Widow 
and  Orphan  Asylum  within  here?" 

No  one  replied. 

"  Is  there  within  here  any  agent  or  any  member  of 
any  charitable  institution  whatever  ?" 

No  one  seemed  competent  to  answer,  or,  no  one 
thought  it  worth  while  to. 


I  X  Q  U  E  S  T  .  139 

"  If  there  be  within  here  any  such  person,  I  have  in 
my  hand  two  dollars  for  him." 

Some  interest  was  manifested. 

"  I  was  called  away  so  hurriedly,  I  forgot  this  part  of 
my  duty.  With  the  proprietor  of  the  Samaritan  Pain 
Dissuader  it  is  a  rule,  to  devote,  on  the  spot,  to  some 
benevolent  purpose,  the  half  of  the  proceeds  of  sales. 
Eight  bottles  were  disposed  of  among  this  company. 
Hence,  four  half-dollars  remain  to  charity.  Who,  as 
steward,  takes  the  money?" 

One  or  two  pair  of  feet  moved  upon  the  floor,  as  with 
a  sort  of  itching  ;  but  nobody  rose. 

"Does  diffidence  prevail  over  duty?  If,  I  say,  there 
be  any  gentleman,  or  any  lady,  either,  here  present,  who 
is  in  any  connection  with  any  charitable  institution 
whatever,  let  him  or  her  come  forward.  He  or  she 
happening  to  have  at  hand  no  certificate  of  such  con 
nection,  makes  no  difference.  Not  of  a  suspicious 
temper,  thank  God,  I  shall  have  confidence  in  whoever 
offers  to  take  the  money." 

A  demure-looking  woman,  in  a  dress  rather  tawdry 
and  rumpled,  here  drew  her  veil  well  down  and  rose  ; 
but,  marking  every  eye  upon  her,  thought  it  advisable, 
upon  the  whole,  to  sit  down  again. 

"  Is  it  to  be  believed  that,  in  this  Christian  company, 
there  is  no  one  charitable  person  ?  I  mean,  no  one  con 
nected  with  any  charity  ?  Well,  then,  is  there  no  object 
of  charity  here  ?" 

Upon  this,  an  unhappy-looking  woman,  in  a  sort  of 
mourning,  neat,  but  sadly  worn,  hid  her  face  behind  a 


140  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN, 

meagre  bundle,  and  was  heard  to  sob.  Meantime,  as 
not  seeing  or  hearing  her,  the  herb-doctor  again  spoke, 
and  this  time  not  unpathetically  : 

"Are  there  none  here  who  feel  in  need  of  help,  and 
who,  in  accepting  such  help,  would  feel  that  they,  in 
their  time,  have  given  or  done  more  than  may  ever  be 
given  or  done  to  them  ?  Man  or  woman,  is  there  none 
such  here  ?" 

The  sobs  of  the  woman  were  more  audible,  though 
she  strove  to  repress  them.  While  nearly  every  one's 
attention  was  bent  upon  her,  a  man  of  the  appearance  of 
a  day-laborer,  with  a  white  bandage  across  his  face,  con 
cealing  the  side  of  the  nose,  and  who,  for  coolness'  sake, 
had  been  sitting  in  his  red-flannel  shirt-sleeves,  his  coat 
thrown  across  one  shoulder,  the  darned  cuffs  drooping 
behind — this  man  shufflingly  rose,  and,  with  a  pace  that 
seemed  the  lingering  memento  of  the  lock-step  of  con 
victs,  went  up  for  a  duly-qualified  claimant. 

"  Poor  wounded  huzzar  !"  sighed  the  herb-doctor,  and 
dropping  the  money  into  the  man's  clam-shell  of  a  hand 
turned  and  departed. 

The  recipient  of  the  alms  was  about  moving  after, 
when  the  auburn-haired  gentleman  staid  him  :  "  Don't 
be  frightened,  you;  but  I  want  to  see  those  coins. 
Yes,  yes ;  good  silver,  good  silver.  There,  take  them 
again,  and  while  you  are  about  it,  go  bandage  the  rest 
of  yourself  behind  something.  D'ye  hear?  Consider 
yourself,  wholly,  the  scar  of  a  nose,  and  be  off  with 
yourself." 

Being  of  a  forgiving  nature,  or  else  from  emotion  not 


I  NQU  E  S  T  .  141 

daring  to  trust  his  voice,  the  man  silently,  but  not 
without  some  precipitancy,  withdrew. 

"  Strange,"  said  the  auburn-haired  gentleman,  return 
ing  to  his  friend,  "  the  money  was  good  money." 

"  Aye,  and  where  your  fine  knavery  now  ?  Knavery 
to  devote  the  half  of  one's  receipts  to  charity?  He's  a 
fool  I  say  again." 

"  Others  might  call  him  an  original  genius." 

"Yes,  being  original  in  his  folly.  Genius?  His 
genius  is  a  cracked  pate,  and,  as  this  age  goes,  not 
much  originality  about  that." 

"  May  he  not  be  knave,  fool,  and  genius  altogether  ?" 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  here  said  a  third  person  with  a  gos 
siping  expression  who  had  been  listening,  "  but  you  are 
somewhat  puzzled  by  this  man,  and  well  you  may  be." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  him  ?"  asked  'the 
hooked-nosed  gentleman. 

"  No,  but  I  suspect  him  for  something." 

"  Suspicion.     We  want  knowledge." 

"  Well,  suspect  first  and  know  next.  True  know 
ledge  comes  but  by  suspicion  or  revelation.  That's  my 
maxim." 

"  And  yet,"  said  the  auburn-haired  gentleman,  since 
a  wise  man  will  keep  even  some  certainties  to  himself, 
much  more  some  suspicions,  at  least  he  will  at  all  events 
so  do  till  they  ripen  into  knowledge." 

"  Do  you  hear  that  about  the  wise  man  ?"  said  the 
hook-nosed  gentleman,  turning  upon  the  new  comer. 
"  Now  what  is  it  you  suspect  of  this  fellow  ?" 

"  I  shrewdly  suspect  him,"  was  the  eager  response, 


142  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"for  one  of  those  Jesuit  emissaries  prowling  all  over  our 
country.  The  better  to  accomplish  their  secret  designs, 
they  assume,  at  times,  I  am  told,  the  most  singular 
masques ;  sometimes,  in  appearance,  the  absurdest." 

This,  though  indeed  for  some  reason  causing  a  droll 
smile  upon  the  face  of  the  hook-nosed  gentleman,  added 
a  third  angle  to  the  discussion,  which  now  became  a 
sort  of  triangular  duel,  and  ended,  at  last,  with  but  a 
triangular  result. 


CHAPTER    XIX.      . 

A    SOLDIER    OF    FORTUNE. 

"  MEXICO  ?    Molino  del  Rey  ?     Resaca  de  la  Palma  ?" 

"  Resaca  de  la  Tombs!" 

Leaving  his  reputation  to  take  care  of  itself,  since,  as 
is  not  seldom  the  case,  he  knew  nothing  of  its  being  in 
debate,  the  herb-doctor,  wandering  to  wardsthe  forward 
part  of  the  boat,  had  there  espied  a  singular  character  in  a 
grimy  old  regimental  coat,  a  countenance  at  once  grim 
and  wizened,  interwoven  paralyzed  legs,  stiff  as  icicles, 
suspended  between  rude  crutches,  while  the  whole 
rigid  body,  like  a  ship's  long  barometer  on  gimbals, 
swung  to  and  fro,  mechanically  faithful  to  the  motion 
of  the  boat.  Looking  downward  while  he  swung,  the 
cripple  seemed  in  a  brown  study. 

As  moved  by  the  sight,  and  conjecturing  that  here 
was  some  battered  hero  from  the  Mexican  battle-fields, 
the  herb-doctor  had  sympathetically  accosted  him  as 
above,  and  received  the  above  rather  dubious  reply.  As, 
with  a  half  moody,  half  surly  sort  of  air  that  reply  was 
given,  the  cripple,  by  a  voluntary  jerk,  nervously  increased 
his  "swing  (his  custom  when  seized  by  emotion),  so  that 


144  THE      C  O  N  F  I  D  E  X  C  E  -  M  A  X  . 

one  would  have  thought  some  squall  had  suddenly  rolled 
the  boat  and  with  it  the  barometer. 

"Tombs?  my  friend,"  exclaimed  the  herb-doctor  in 
mild  surprise.  "  You  have  not  descended  to  the  dead, 
have  you?  I  had  imagined  you  a  scarred  campaigner, 
one  of  the  noble  children  of  war,  for  your  dear  country 
a  glorious  sufferer.  But  you  are  Lazarus,  it  seems." 

"  Yes,  he  who  had  sores." 

"Ah,  the  other  Lazarus.  But  I  never  knew  that 
either  of  them  was  in  the  army,"  glancing  at  the  dilapi 
dated  regimentals. 

"  That  will  do  now.     Jokes  enough." 

"Friend,"  said  the  other  reproachfully,  "you  think 
amiss.  On  principle,  I  greet  unfortunates  with  some 
pleasant  remark,  the  better  to  call  off  their  thoughts 
from  their  troubles.  The  physician  who  is  at  once  wise 
and  humane  seldom  unreservedly  sympathizes  with  his 
patient.  But  come,  I  am  a  herb-doctor,  and  also  a  na 
tural  bone-setter.  I  may  be  sanguine,  but  I  think  I 
can  do  something  for  you.  You  look  up  now.  Give  me 
your  story.  Ere  I  undertake  a  cure,  I  require  a  full  ac 
count  of  the  case." 

"You  can't  help  me,"  returned  the  cripple  gruffly. 
"  Go  away." 

"  You  seem  sadly  destitute  of — " 

"  No  I  ain't  destitute  ;  to-day,  at  least,  I  can  pay  my 
way." 

"  The  Natural  Bone-setter  is  happy,  indeed,  to  hear 
that.  But  you  were  premature.  I  was  deploring  your 
destitution,  not  of  cash,  but  of  confidence.  You  think 


A      SOLDIER      OF      FORTUNE.  145 

the  Natural  Bone-setter  can't  help  you.  Well,  suppose 
he  can't,  have  you  any  objection  to  telling  him  your 
story.  You,  my  friend,  have,  in  a  signal  way,  experi 
enced  adversity.  Tell  me,  then,  for  my  private  good, 
how,  without  aid  from  the  noble  cripple,  Epictetus,  you 
have  arrived  at  his  heroic  sang-froid  in  misfortune." 

At  these  words  the  cripple  fixed  upon  the  speaker  the 
hard  ironic  eye  of  one  toughened  and  defiant  in  misery, 
and,  in  the  end,  grinned  upon  him  with  his  unshaven  face 
like  an  ogre. 

"  Come,  come,  be  sociable — be  human,  my  friend. 
Don't  make  that  face  ;  it  distresses  me." 

" I  suppose,"  with  a  sneer,  "you  are  the  man  I've 
long  heard  of — The  Happy  Man." 

"  Happy?  my  friend.  Yes,  at  least  I  ought  to  be. 
My  conscience  is  peaceful.  I  have  confidence  in  every 
body.  I  have  confidence  that,  in  my  humble  profession, 
I  do  some  little  good  to  the  world.  Yes,  I  think  that, 
without  presumption,  I  may  venture  to  assent  to  the 
proposition  that  I  am  the  Happy  Man — the  Happy  Bone- 
setter." 

"  Then  you  shall  hear  my  story.  Many  a  month  I 
have  longed  to  get  hold  of  the  Happy  Man,  drill  him, 
drop  the  powder,  and  leave  him  to  explode  at  his 
leisure." 

"  What  a  demoniac  unfortunate,'"  exclaimed  the  herb- 
doctor  retreating.  "  Regular  infernal  machine !" 

"  Look  ye,"  cried  the  other,  stumping  after  him,  and 
with  his  horny  hand  catching  him  by  a  horn  button,  "my 
name  is  Thomas  Fry.  Until  my- — " 


146  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

— "Any  relation  of  Mrs.  Fry?"  interrupted  the  other. 
"  I  still  correspond  with  that  excellent  lady  on  the  sub 
ject  of  prisons.  Tell  me,  are  you  anyway  connected 
with  my  Mrs.  Fry  ?" 

"  Blister  Mrs.  Fry  !  What  do  them  sentimental  souls 
know  of  prisons  or  any  other  black  fact  ?  I'll  tell  ye 
a  story  of  prisons.  Ha,  ha !" 

The  herb-doctor  shrank,  and  with  reason,  the  laugh 
being  strangely  startling. 

"Positively,  my  friend,"  said  he,  "you  must  stop 
that ;  I  can't  stand  that ;  no  more  of  that.  I  hope  I 
have  the  milk  of  kindness,  but  your  thunder  will  soon 
turn  it." 

"  Hold,  I  haven't  come  to  the  milk-turning  part  yet. 
My  name  is  Thomas  Fry.  Until  my  twenty-third  year 
I  went  by  the  nickname  of  Happy  Tom — happy — ha, 
ha !  They  called  me  Happy  Tom,  d'ye  see?  because  I  was 
so  good-natured  and  laughing  all  the  time,  just  as  I  am 
now — ha,  ha  !" 

Upon  this  the  herb-doctor  would,  perhaps,  have  run, 
but  once  more  the  hyaena  clawed  him.  Presently, 
sobering  down,  he  continued : 

"  Well,  I  was  born  in  New  York,  and  there  I  lived  a 
steady,  hard-working  man,  a  cooper  by  trade.  One 
evening  I  went  to  a  political  meeting  in  the  Park — for 
you  must  know,  I  was  in  those  days  a  great  patriot.  As 
bad  luck  would  have  it,  there  was  trouble  near,  between 
a  gentleman  who  had  been  drinking  wine,  and  a  pavior 
who  was  sober.  The  pavior  chewed  tobacco,  and  the 
gentleman  said  it  was  beastly  in  him,  and  pushed  him, 


A      SOLDIER      OF      FORTUNE.  147 

wanting  to  have  his  place.  The  pavior  chewed  on  and 
pushed  back.  Well,  the  gentleman  carried  a  sword- 
cane,  and  presently  the  pavior  was  down — skewer 
ed." 

"  How  was  that  ?" 

"  Why  you  see  the  pavior  undertook  something  above 
his  strength." 

"  The  other  must  have  been  a  Samson  then.  *  Strong 
as  a  pavior,'  is  a  proverb." 

u  So  it  is,  and  the  gentleman  was  in  body  a  rather 
weakly  man,  but,  for  all  that,  I  say  again,  the  pavior 
undertook  something  above  his  strength." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  He  tried  to  maintain 
his  rights,  didn't  he?" 

"  Yes ;  but,  for  all  that,  I  say  again,  he  undertook 
something  above  his  strength." 

"  I  don't  understand  you.     But  go  on." 

"  Along  with  the  gentleman,  I,  with  other  witnesses, 
was  taken  to  the  Tombs.  There  was  an  examination, 
and,  to  appear  at  the  trial,  the  gentleman  and  witnesses 
all  gave  bail — I  mean  all  but  me." 

"And  why  didn't  you?" 

"  Couldn't  get  it." 

"  Steady,  hard-working  cooper  like  you  ;  what  was 
the  reason  you  couldn't  get  bail?" 

"  Steady,  hard-working  cooper  hadn't  no  friends. 
Well,  souse  I  went  into  a  wet  cell,  like  a  canal-boat 
splashing  into  the  lock  ;  locked  up  in  pickle,  d'ye  see  ? 
against  the  time  of  the  trial." 

"  But  what  had  you  done?" 


148  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  Why,  I  hadn't  got  any  friends,  I  tell  ye.  A  worse 
crime  than  murder,  as  ye'll  see  afore  long." 

"  Murder?     Did  the  wounded  man  die?" 

"  Died  the  third  night." 

"  Then  the  gentleman's  bail  didn't  help  him.  Impris 
oned  now,  wasn't  he  ?" 

"  Had  too  many  friends.  No,  it  was  I  that  was 
imprisoned. — But  I  was  going  on  :  They  let  me  walk 
about  the  corridor  by  day  ;  but  at  night  I  must  into  lock. 
There  the  wet  and  the  damp  struck  into  my  bones.  They 
doctored  me,  but  no  use.  When  the  trial  came,  I  was 
boosted  up  and  said  my  say." 

"And  what  was  that?" 

"  My  say  was  that  I  saw  the  steel  go  in,  and  saw  it 
sticking  in." 

"  And  that  hung  the  gentleman." 

"  Hung  him  with  a  gold  chain  !  His  friends  called  a 
meeting  in  the  Park,  and  presented  him  with  a  gold 
watch  and  chain  upon  his  acquittal." 

"Acquittal?" 

"  Didn't  I  say  he  had  friends  ?" 

There  was  a  pause,  broken  at  last  by  the  herb-doc 
tor's  saying  :  "  Well,  there  is  a  bright  side  to  everything. 
If  this  speak  prosaically  for  justice,  it  speaks  romantic 
ally  for  friendship  !  But  go  on,  my  fine  fellow." 

"  My  say  being  said,  they  told  me  I  might  go.     I  said 
I  could  not  without  help.     So  the  constables  helped  me,  ' 
asking  where  would  I  go?     I   told  them  back  to  the 
*  Tombs.'    I  knew  no  other  place.    '  But  where  are  your 
friends?'  said  they.     *  I  have  none.'     So  they  put  me 


A      SOLDIER     OF      FORTUNE.  149 

into  a  hand-barrow  with  an  awning  to  it,  and  wheeled 
me  down  to  the.  dock  and  on  board  a  boat,  and  away  to 
Blackwell's  Island  to  the  Corporation  Hospital.  There 
I  got  worse — got  pretty  much  as  you  see  me  now. 
Couldn't  cure  me.  After  three  years,  I  grew  sick  of 
lying  in  a  grated  iron  bed  alongside  of  groaning  thieves 
and  mouldering  burglars.  They  gave  me  five  silver  dol 
lars,  and  these  crutches,  and  I  hobbled  off.  I  had  an 
only  brother  who  went  to  Indiana,  years  ago.  I  beg 
ged  about,  to  make  up  a  sum  to  go  to  him  ;  got  to 
Indiana  at  last,  and  they  directed  me  to  his  grave.  It 
was  on  a  great  plain,  in  a  log-church  yard  with  a  stump 
fence,  the  old  gray  roots  sticking  all  ways  like  moose- 
antlers.  The  bier,  set  over  the  grave,  it  being  the  last 
dug,  was  of  green  hickory ;  bark  on,  and  green  twigs 
sprouting  from  it.  Some  one  had  planted  a  bunch  of  vio 
lets  on  the  mound,  but  it  was  a  poor  soil  (always  choose 
the  poorest  soils  for  grave-yards),  and  they  were  all  dried 
to  tinder.  I  was  going  to  sit  and  rest  myself  on  the  bier 
and  think  about  my  brother  in  heaven,  but  the  bier 
broke  down,  the  legs  being  only  tacked.  So,  after 
driving  some  hogs  out  of  the  yard  that  were  rooting 
there,  I  came  away,  and,  not  to  make  too  long  a  story 
of  it,  here  I  am,  drifting  down  stream  like  any  other  bit 
of  wreck." 

The  herb-doctor  was  silent  for  a  time,  buried  in 
thought.  At  last,  raising  his  head,  he  said  :  "  I  have 
considered  your  whole  story,  my  friend,  and  strove  to 
consider  it  in  the  light  of  a  commentary  on  what  I 
believe  to  be  the  system  of  things ;  but  it  so  jars  with  all, 


150  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

is  so  incompatible  with  all,  that  you  must  pardon  me, 
if  I  honestly  tell  you,  I  cannot  believe  it." 

"  That  don't  surprise  me." 

"How?" 

"Hardly  anybody  believes  my  story,  and  so  to  most 
I  tell  a  different  one." 

"How,  again?" 

"  Wait  here  a  bit  and  I'll  show  ye." 

With  that,  taking  off  his  rag  of  a  cap,  and  arranging 
his  tattered  regimentals  the  best  he  could,  off  he  went 
stumping  among  the  passengers  in  an  adjoining  part  of 
the  deck,  saying  with  a  jovial  kind  of  air:  "Sir,  a 
shilling  for  Happy  Tom,  who  fought  at  Buena  Vista. 
Lady,  something  for  General  Scott's  soldier,  crippled  in 
both  pins  at  glorious  Contreras." 

Now,  it  so  chanced  that,  unbeknown  to  the  cripple,  a 
prim-looking  stranger  had  overheard  part  of  his  story. 
Beholding  him,  then,  on  his  present  begging  adventure, 
this  person,  turning  to  the  herb-doctor,  indignantly  said  : 
"  Is  it  not  too  bad,  sir,  that  yonder  rascal  should  lie 
so?" 

"  Charity  never  faileth,  my  good  sir,"  was  the  reply. 
"  The  vice  of  this  unfortunate  is  pardonable.  Consider, 
he  lies  not  out  of  wantonness." 

"  Not  out  of  wantonness.  I  never  heard  more  wanton 
lies.  In  one  breath  to  tell  you  what  would  appear  to 
be  his  true  story,  and,  in  the  next,  away  and  falsify  it." 

"  For  all  that,  I  repeat  he  lies  not  out  of  wantonness. 
A  ripe  philosopher,  turned  out  of  the  great  Sorbonne  of 
hard  times,  he  thinks  that  woes,  when  told  to  strangers 


A      SOLDIER      OF      FORTUNE.  151 

for  money,  are  best  sugared.  Though  the  inglorious 
lock-jaw  of  his  knee-pans  in  a  wet  dungeon  is  a  far 
more  pitiable  ill  than  to  have  been  crippled  at  glorious 
Contreras,  yet  he  is  of  opinion  that  this  lighter  and 
false  ill  shall  attract,  while  the  heavier  and  real  one 
might  repel." 

"  Nonsense  ;  he  belongs  to  the  Devil's  regiment ;  and 
I  have  a  great  mind  to  expose  him." 

"  Shame  upon  you.  Dare  to  expose  that  poor  unfor 
tunate,  and  by  heaven — don't  you  do  it,  sir." 

Noting  something  in  his  manner,  the  other  thought  it 
more  prudent  to  retire  than  retort.  By-and-by,  the 
cripple  came  back,  and  with  glee,  having  reaped  a  pretty 
good  harvest. 

"  There,"  he  laughed,  "  you  know  now  what  sort  of 
soldier  I  am." 

"  Aye,  one  that  fights  not  the  stupid  Mexican,  but  a 
foe  worthy  your  tactics — Fortune  !" 

"  Hi,  hi !"  clamored  the  cripple,  like  a  fellow  in  the 
pit  of  a  sixpenny  theatre,  then  said,  "  don't  know  much 
what  you  meant,  but  it  went  off  well." 

This  over,  his  countenance  capriciously  put  on  a 
morose  ogreness.  To  kindly  questions  he  gave  no  kind 
ly  answers.  Unhandsome  notions  were  thrown  out 
about  "  free  Ameriky,"  as  he  sarcastically  called  his  coun 
try.  These  seemed  to  disturb  and  pain  the  herb-doctor, 
who,  after  an  interval  of  thoughtfulness,  gravely  address 
ed  him  in  these  words : 

"  You,  my  worthy  friend,  to  my  concern,  have  reflect 
ed  upon  the  government  under  which  you  live  and  suf- 


152  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

fer.  Where  is  your  patriotism  ?  Where  your  gratitude  ? 
True,  the  charitable  may  find  something  in  your  case, 
as  you  put  it,  partly  to  account  for  such  reflections  as 
coming  from  you.  Still,  be  the  facts  how  they  may, 
your  reflections  are  none  the  less  unwarrantable.  Grant, 
for  the  moment,  that  your  experiences  are  as  you  give 
them  ;  in  which  case  I  would  admit  that  government 
might  be  thought  to  have  more  or  less  to  do  with  what 
seems  undesirable  in  them.  But  it  is  never  to  be  for 
gotten  that  human  government,  being  subordinate  to  the 
divine,  must  needs,  therefore,  in  its  degree,  partake  of 
the  characteristics  of  the  divine.  That  is,  while  in  gene 
ral  efficacious  to  happiness,  the  world's  law  may  yet,  in 
some  cases,  have,  to  the  eye  of  reason,  an  unequal  ope 
ration,  just  as,  in  the  same  imperfect  view,  some  ine 
qualities  may  appear  in  the  operations  of  heaven's  law  ; 
nevertheless,  to  one  who  has  a  right  confidence,  final 
benignity  is,  in  every  instance,  as  sure  with  the  one  law 
as  the  other.  I  expound  the  point  at  some  length, 
because  these  are  the  considerations,  my  poor  fellow, 
which,  weighed  as  they  merit,  will  enable  you  to  sustain 
with  unimpaired  trust  the  apparent  calamities  which 
are  yours." 

"  What  do  you  talk  your  hog-latin  to  me  for  ?"  cried 
the  cripple,  who,  throughout  the  address,  betrayed  the 
most  illiterate  obduracy  ;  and,  with  an  incensed  look, 
anew  he  swung  himself. 

Glancing  another  way  till  the  spasm  passed,  the 
other  continued: 

"  Charity  marvels  not  that  you  should  be  somewhat 


A      SOLDIER      OF      FORTUNE.  153 

hard  of  conviction,  my  friend,  since  you,  doubtless, 
believe  yourself  hardly  dealt  by;  but  forget  not  that 
those  who  are  loved  are  chastened." 

"  Mustn't  chasten  them  too  much,  though,  and  too 
long,  because  their  skin  and  heart  get  hard,  and  feel 
neither  pain  nor  tickle." 

"  To  mere  reason,  your  case  looks  something  pite 
ous,  I  grant.  But  never  despond ;  many  things — the 
choicest — yet  remain.  You  breathe  this  bounteous  air, 
are  warmed  by  this  gracious  sun,  and,  though  poor  and 
friendless,  indeed,  nor  so  agile  as  in  your  youth,  yet,  how 
sweet  to  roam,  day  by  day,  through  the  groves,  pluck 
ing  the  bright  mosses  and  flowers,  till  forlornness  itself 
becomes  a  hilarity,  and,  in  your  innocent  independence, 
you  skip  for  joy." 

"Fine  skipping  with  these  'ere  horse-posts — ha  ha!" 

"  Pardon  ;  I  forgot  the  crutches.  My  mind,  figuring 
you  after  receiving  the  benefit  of  my  art,  overlooked 
you  as  you  stand  before  me." 

"  Your  art  ?  You  call  yourself  a  bone-setter — a  natu 
ral  bone-setter,  do  ye?  Go,  bone-set  the  crooked  world, 
and  then  come  bone-set  crooked  me." 

"  Truly,  my  honest  friend,  I  thank  you  for  again  recall 
ing  me  to  my  original  object.  Let  me  examine  you," 
bending  down  ;  "  ah,  I  see,  I  see ;  much  such  a  case  as  the 
negro's.  Did  you  see  him  ?  Oh  no,  you  came  aboard 
since.  Well,  his  case  was  a  little  something  like  yours. 
I  prescribed  for  him,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  at  all  if,  in 
a  very  short  time,  he  were  able  to  walk  almost  as  well 
as  myself.  Now,  have  you  no  confidence  in  my  art  ?" 


154  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"Ha,  ha!" 

The  herb-doctor  averted  himself;  but,  the  wild  laugh 
dying  away,  resumed  : 

"  I  will  not  force  confidence  on  you.  Still,  I  would 
fain  do  the  friendly  thing  by  you.  Here,  take  this  box ; 
just  rub  that  liniment  on  the  joints  night  and  morn 
ing.  Take  it.  Nothing  to  pay.  God  bless  you.  Good 
bye." 

"Stay,"  pausing  in  his  swing,  .not  untouched  by  so 
unexpected  an  act ;  "  stay — thank'ee — but  will  this 
really  do  me  good  ?  Honor  bright,  now;  will  it?  Don't 
deceive  a  poor  fellow,"  with  changed  mien  and  glis 
tening  eye. 

"  Try  it.     Good-bye." 

"  Stay,  stay !     Sure  it  will  do  me  good?" 

"  Possibly,  possibly ;  no  harm  in  trying.  Good 
bye." 

"  Stay,  stay ;  give  me  three  more  boxes,  and  here's 
the  money. 

"  My  friend,"  returning  towards  him  with  a  sadly 
pleased  sort  of  air,  "I  rejoice  in  the  birth  of  your  confi 
dence  and  hopefulness.  Believe  me  that,  like  your 
crutches,  confidence  and  hopefulness  will  long  support 
a  man  when  his  own  legs  will  not.  Stick  to  confidence 
and  hopefulness,  then,  since  how  mad  for  the  cripple  to 
throw  his  crutches  away.  You  ask  for  three  more  boxes 
of  my  liniment.  Luckily,  I  have  just  that  number  re 
maining.  Here  they  are.  I  sell  them  at  half-a-dollar 
apiece.  But  I  shall  take  nothing  from  you.  There  ; 
God  bless  you  again  ;  good-bye." 


A      SOLDIER      OF      FORTUNE.  155 

"  Stay,"  in  a  convulsed  voice,  and  rocking  himself, 
"  stay,  stay  !  You  have  made  a  better  man  of  me.  You 
have  borne  with  me  like  a  good  Christian,  and  talked  to 
me  like  one,  and  all  that  is  enough  without  making  me 
a  present  of  these  boxes.  Here  is  the  money.  I  won't 
take  nay.  There,  there  ;  and  may  Almighty  goodness 
go  with  you." 

As  the  herb-doctor  withdrew,  the  cripple  gradually 
subsided  from  his  hard  rocking  into  a  gentle  oscilla 
tion.  It  expressed,  perhaps,  the  soothed  mood  of  his 
reverie. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

REAPPEARANCE  OF  ONE  "WHO  MAY  BE  REMEMBERED. 

THE  herb-doctor  had  not  moved  far  away,  when,  in 
advance  of  him,  this  spectacle  met  his  eye.  A  dried-up 
old  man,  with  the  stature  of  a  boy  of  twelve,  was  tot 
tering  about  like  one  out  of  his  mind,  in  rumpled 
clothes  of  old  moleskin,  showing  recent  contact  with 
bedding,  his  ferret  eyes,  blinking  in  the  sunlight  of  the 
snowy  boat,  as  imbecilely  eager,  and,  at  intervals,  cough 
ing,  he  peered  hither  and  thither  as  if  in  alarmed  search 
for  his  nurse.  He  presented  the  aspect  of  one  who, 
bed-rid,  has,  through  overruling  excitement,  like  that  of 
a  fire,  been  stimulated  to  his  feet. 

"  You  seek  some  one,"  said  the  herb-doctor,  accosting 
him.  "  Can  I  assist  you  ?" 

*'  Do,  do  ;  I  am  so  old  and  miserable,"  coughed  the 
old  man.  "  Where  is  he?  This  long  time  I've  been  try 
ing  to  get  up  and  find  him.  But  I  haven't  any  friends, 
and  couldn't  get  up  till  now.  Where  is  he?" 

"  Who  do  you  mean  ?"  drawing  closer,  to  stay  the 
further  wanderings  of  one  so  weakly. 

"  Why,  why,  why,"  now  marking  the  other's  dress, 
"  why  you,  yes  you — you,  you — ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !" 


REAPPEARANCE.  157 

"I?" 

"  Ugh,  ugh,  Tigh! — you  are  the  man  he  spoke  of. 
Who  is  he  ?" 

"  Faith,  that  is  just  what  I  want  to  know." 

"Mercy,  mercy!"  coughed  the  old  man,  bewildered, 
11  ever  since  seeing  him,  my  head  spins  round  so.  I 
ought  to  have  a  guardian.  Is  this  a  snuff-colored  sur- 
tout  of  yours,  or  ain't  it  ?  Somehow,  can't  trust  my 
senses  any  more,  since  trusting  him — ugh,  ugh,  ugh !" 

"  Oh,  you  have  trusted  somebody  ?  Glad  to  hear  it. 
Glad  to  hear  of  any  instance  of  that  sort.  Reflects  \vell 
upon  all  men.  But  you  inquire  whether  this  is  a  snuff- 
colored  surtout.  I  answer  it  is  ;  and  will  add  that  a 
herb-doctor  wears  it." 

Upon  this  the  old  man,  in  his  broken  way,  replied 
that  then  he  (the  herb-doctor)  was  the  person  he 
sought — the  person  spoken  of  by  the  other  person  as 
yet  unknown.  He  then,  with  nighty  eagerness,  wanted 
to  know  who  this  last  person  was,  and  where  he  was, 
and  whether  he  could  be  trusted  with  money  to  treble  it. 

"  Aye,  now,  I  begin  to  understand;  ten  to  one  you 
mean  my  worthy  friend,  who,  in  pure  goodness  of  heart, 
makes  people's  fortunes  for  them — their  everlasting  for 
tunes,  as  the  phrase  goes — only  charging  his  one  small 
commission  of  confidence.  Aye,  aye;  before  intrusting 
funds  with  my  friend,  you  want  to  know  about  him. 
Very  proper — and,  I  am  glad  to  assure  you,  you  need 
have  no  hesitation;  none,  none,  just  none  in  the  world ; 
bona  fide,  none.  Turned  me  in  a  trice  a  hundred  dollars 
the  other  day  into  as  many  eagles."' 


158  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"Did  he?  did  he?  But  where  is  he?  Take  me  to 
him." 

"  Pray,  take  my  arm  !  The  boat  is  large  !  We  may 
have  something  of  a  hunt !  Come  on !  Ah,  is  that  he  ?" 

" Where?  where?" 

"  0,  no  ;  I  took  yonder  coat-skirts  for  his.  But  no, 
my  honest  friend  would  never  turn  tail  that  way. 
Ah !— " 

"Where?  where?" 

"  Another  mistake.  Surprising  resemblance.  I  took 
yonder  clergyman  for  him.  Come  on  !" 

Having  searched  that  part  of  the  boat  without  success, 
they  went  to  another  part,  and,  while  exploring  that, 
the  boat  sided  up  to  a  landing,  when,  as  the  two  were 
passing  by  the  open  guard,  the  herb-doctor  suddenly 
rushed  towards  the  disembarking  throng,  crying  out : 
"  Mr.  Truman,  Mr.  Truman !  There  he  goes — that's  he. 
Mr.  Truman,  Mr.  Truman  ! — Confound  that  steam-pipe. 
Mr.  Truman  !  for  God's  sake,  Mr.  Truman ! — No,  no. — 
There,  the  plank's  in — too  late — we're  off." 

With  that,  the  huge  boat,  with  a  mighty,  walrus 
wallow,  rolled  away  from  the  shore,  resuming  her 
course. 

"  How  vexatious !"  exclaimed  the  herb-doctor,  return 
ing.  "Had  we  been  but  one  single  moment  sooner. — 
There  he  goes,  now,  towards  yon  hotel,  his  portmanteau 
following.  You  see  him,  don't  you?" 

"Where?  where?" 

"  Can't  see  him  any  more.  Wheel-house  shot  be 
tween.  I  am  very  sorry.  I  should  have  so  liked  you 


REAPPEARANCE  .  159 

to  have  let  him  have  a  hundred  or  so  of  your  money. 
You  would  have  been  pleased  with  the  investment,  be 
lieve  me." 

"  Oh,  I  have  let  him  have  some  of  my  money," 
groaned  the  old  man. 

"  You  have  ?  My  dear  sir,"  seizing  both  the  miser's 
hands  in  both  his  own  and  heartily  shaking  them.  "  My 
dear  sir,  how  I  congratulate  you.  You  don't  know." 

"  Ugh,  ugh  !  I  fear  I  don't,"  with  another  groan. 
His  name  is  Truman,  is  it  ?" 

"  John  Truman." 

"Where  does  he  live?" 

"In  St.  Louis." 

"  Where's  his  office  ?" 

"Let  me  see.  Jones  street,  number  one  hundred 
and — no,  no — anyway,  it's  somewhere  or  other  up-stairs 
in  Jones  street." 

"  Can't  you  remember  the  number?     Try,  now." 

"  One  hundred — two  hundred — three  hundred — " 

"  Oh,  my  hundred  dollars  !  I  wonder  whether  it  will 
be  one  hundred,  two  hundred,  three  hundred,  with 
them  !  Ugh,  ugh  !  Can't  remember  the  number?" 

"Positively,  though  I  once  knew,  I  have  forgotten, 
quite  forgotten  it.  Strange,  But  never  mind.  You 
will  easily  learn  in  St.  Louis.  He  is  well  known 
there." 

"But  I  have  no  receipt — ugh,  ugh!  Nothing  to 
show— don't  know  where  I  stand — ought  to  have  a 
guardeean — ugh,  ugh !  Don't  know  anything.  Ugh, 
ugh!" 


160  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

4<  Why,  you  know  that  you  gave  him  your  confidence, 
don't  you?" 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"Well,  then?" 

"  But  what,  what — how,  how — ugh,  ugh  !" 

"Why,  didn't  he  tell  you?" 

"No." 

"  What !  Didn't  he  tell  you  that  it  was  a  secret,  a 
mystery  ?" 

"  Oh— yes." 

"Well,  then?" 

"But  I  have  no  bond." 

"  Don't  need  any  with  Mr.  Truman.  Mr.  Truman's 
word  is  his  bond." 

"But  how  am  I  to  get  my  profits — ugh,  ugh  ! — and 
my  money  back  ?  Don't  know  anything.  Ugh,  ugh !" 

"  Oh,  you  must  have  confidence." 

"  Don't  say  that  Word  again.  Makes  my  head  spin 
so.  Oh,  I'm  so  old  and  miserable,  nobody  caring  for 
me,  everybody  fleecing  me,  and  my  head  spins  so — ugh, 
ugh ! — and  this  cough  racks  me  so.  I  say  again,  I  ought 
to  have  a  guardeean." 

"  So  you  ought ;  and  Mr.  Truman  is  your  guardian  to 
the  extent  you  invested  with  him.  Sorry  we  missed 
him  just  now.  But  you'll  hear  from  him.  ATI  right. 
It's  imprudent,  though,  to  expose  yourself  this  way. 
Let  me  take  you  to  your  berth." 

Forlornly  enough  the  old  miser  moved  slowly  away 
with  him.  But,  while  descending  a  stairway,  he  was 
seized  with  such  coughing  that  he  was  fain  to  pause. 


REAPPEARANCE.  161 

"  That  is  a  very  bad  cough." 

"  Church-yard — ugh,  ugh  ! — church-yard  cough. — 
Ugh !" 

"  Have  you  tried  anything  for  it?" 

44  Tired  of  trying.  Nothing  does  me  any  good — ugh  ! 
ugh  !  Not  even  the  Mammoth  Cave.  Ugh !  ugh ! 
Denned  there  six  months,  but  coughed  so  bad  the  rest 
of  the  coughers — ugh  !  ugh  ! — black-balled  me  out. 
Ugh,  ugh !  Nothing  does  me  good." 

"But  have  you  tried  the  Omni-Balsamic  Reinvigorator, 
sir?" 

"  That's  what  that  Truman  —  ugh,  ugh! — said  I 
ought  to  take.  Yarb-medicine;  you  are  that  yarb-doc- 
tor,  too  ?" 

"  The  same.  Suppose  you  try  one  of  my  boxes  now. 
Trust  me,  from  what  I  know  of  Mr.  Truman,  he  is  not 
the  gentleman  to  recommend,  even  in  behalf  of  a  friend, 
anything  of  whose  excellence  he  is  not  conscientiously 
satisfied." 

"Ugh! — how  much?" 

"Only  two  dollars  a  box." 

"Two  dollars?  Why  don't  you  say  two  millions? 
ugh,  ugh !  Two  dollars,  that's  two  hundred  cents ; 
that's  eight  hundred  farthings ;  that's  two  thousand 
mills  ;  and  all  for  one  little  box  of  yarb-medicine.  My 
head,  my  head  ! — oh,  I  ought  to  have  a  guardeean  for 
my  head.  Ugh,  ugh,  ugh,  ugh!" 

"  Well,  if  two  dollars  a  box  seems  too  much,  take  a 
dozen  boxes  at  twenty  dollars  ;  and  that  will  be  getting 
four  boxes  for  nothing,  and  you  need  use  none  but  those 


162  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

four,  the  rest  you  can  retail  out  at  a  premium,  and  so 
cure  your  cough,  and  make  money  by  it.  Come,  you 
had  better  do  it.  Cash  down.  Can  fill  an  order  in  a 
day  or  two.  Here  now,"  producing  a  box ;  "  pure 
herbs." 

At  that  moment,  seized  with  another  spasm,  the  miser 
snatched  each  interval  to  fix  his  half  distrustful,  half 
hopeful  eye  upon  the  medicine,  held  alluringly  up. 
"  Sure  —  ugh!  Sure  it's  all  nat'ral  ?  Nothing  but 
yarbs?  If  I  only  thought  it  was  a  purely  nat'ral  medi 
cine  now — all  yarbs — ugh,  ugh  ! — oh  this  cough,  this 
cough — ugh,  ugh  ! — shatters  my  whole  body.  Ugh, 
ugh,  ugh!" 

"  For  heaven's  sake  try  my  medicine,  if  but  a  single 
box.  That  it  is  pure  nature  you  may  be  confident. 
Refer  you  to  Mr.  Truman." 

"  Don't  know  his  number — ugh,  ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !  Oh 
this  cough.  He  did  speak  well  of  this  medicine  though  ; 
said  solemnly  it  would  cure  me — ugh,  ugh,  ugh,  ugh! — 
take  off  a  dollar  and  I'll  have  a  box." 

"  Can't  sir,  can't." 

"  Say  a  dollar-and-half.     Ugh !" 

"  Can't.  Am  pledged  to  the  one-price  system,  only 
honorable  one." 

"  Take  off  a  shilling — ugh,  ugh  !" 

"  Can't." 

"Ugh,  ugh,  ugh— I'll  take  it.—- There." 

Grudgingly  he  handed  eight  silver  coins,  but  while 
still  in  his  hand,  his  cough  took  him,  and  they  were 
shaken  upon  the  deck. 


REAPPEARANCE.  163 

One  by  one,  the  herb-doctor  picked  them  up,  and, 
examining  them,  said:  ''These  are  not  quarters,  these 
are  pistareens ;  and  clipped,  and  sweated,  at  that." 

"  Oh  don't  be  so  miserly — ugh,  ugh  ! — better  a  beast 
than  a  miser — ugh,  ugh  !" 

"  Well,  let  it  go.  Anything  rather  than  the  idea  of 
your  not  being  cured  of  such  a  cough.  And  I  hope,  for 
the  credit  of  humanity,  you  have  not  made  it  appear 
worse  than  it  is,  merely  with  a  view  to  working  upon 
the  weak  point  of  my  pity,  and  so  getting  my  medicine 
the  cheaper.  Now,  mind,  don't  take  it  till  night.  Just 
before  retiring  is  the  time.  There,  you  can  get  along 
now,  can't  you  ?  I  would  attend  you  further,  but  I  land 
presently,  and  must  go  hunt  up  my  luggage." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


A   HARD    CASE. 


"  YARBS,  yarbs ;  natur,  natur ;  you  foolish  old  file 
youl  He  diddled  you  with  that  hocus-pocus,  did  he? 
Yarbs  and  natur  will  cure  your  incurable  cough,  you 
think." 

It  was  a  rather  eccentric-looking  person  who  spoke  ; 
somewhat  ursine  in  aspect ;  sporting  a  shaggy  spencer 
of  the  cloth  called  bear's-skin  ;  a  high-peaked  cap  of  rac 
coon-skin,  the  long  bushy  tail  switching  over  behind ; 
raw-hide  leggings ;  grim  stubble  chin ;  and  to  end,  a 
double-barreled  gun  in  hand — a  Missouri  bachelor,  a 
Hoosier  gentleman,  of  Spartan  leisure  and  fortune,  and 
equally  Spartan  manners  and  sentiments ;  and,  as  the 
sequel  may  show,  not  less  acquainted,  in  a  Spartan  way 
of  his  own,  with  philosophy  and  books,  than  with  wood 
craft  and  rifles. 

He  must  have  overheard  some  of  the  talk  between  the 
miser  and  the  herb-doctor;  for,  just  after  the  withdraw 
al  of  the  one,  he  made  up  to  the  other — now  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  leaning  against  the  baluster  there — with  the 
greeting  above. 

**  Think  it  will  cure  me  ?"  coughed  the  miser  in  echo  ; 


A      HARD      CASE.  165 

"why  shouldn't  it?  The  medicine  is  nat'ral  yarbs, 
pure  yarbs;  yarbs  must  cure  me." 

"  Because  a  thing  is  nat'ral,  as  you  call  it,  you  think 
it  must  be  good.  But  who  gave  you  that  cough  ?  Was 
it,  or  was  it  not,  nature  ?" 

"  Sure,  you  don't  think  that  natur,  Dame  Natur,  will 
hurt  a  body,  do  you  ?" 

"Natur  is  good  Queen  Bess;  but  who's  responsible 
for  the  cholera?" 

"  But  yarbs,  yarbs ;  yarbs  are  good  ?" 

"  What's  deadly-nightshade  ?     Yarb,  ain't  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  a  Christian  man  should  speak  agin  natur 
and  yarbs — ugh,  ugh,  ugh  ! — ain't  sick  men  sent  out  into 
the  country  ;  sent  out  to  natur  and  grass?" 

"  Aye,  and  poets  send  out  the  sick  spirit  to  green 
pastures,  like  lame  horses  turned  out  unshod  to  the  turf 
to  renew  their  hoofs.  A  sort  of  yarb-doctors  in  their 
way,  poets  have  it  that  for  sore  hearts,  as  for  sore  lungs, 
nature  is  the  grand  cure.  But  who  froze  to  death  my 
teamster  on  the  prairie  ?  And  who  made  an  idiot  of 
Peter  the  Wild  Boy  ?" 

"  Then  you  don't  believe  in  these  'ere  yarb-doctors?" 

"  Yarb-doctors  ?  I  remember  the  lank  yarb-doctor 
I  saw  once  on  a  hospital-cot  in  Mobile.  One  of  the 
faculty  passing  round  and  seeing  wrho  lay  there,  said 
with  professional  triumph,  "  Ah,  Dr.  Green,  your  yarbs 
don't  help  ye  now,  Dr.  Green.  Have  to  come  to  us  and 
the  mercury  now,  Dr.  Green. — Natur  !  Y-a-r-b-s  !" 

"  Did  I  hear  something  about  herbs  and  herb-doctors  ?" 
here  said  a  flute-like  voice,  advancing. 


166  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

It  was  the  herb-doctor  in  person.  Carpet-bag  in 
hand,  he  happened  to  be  strolling  back  that  way. 

"  Pardon  me,"  addressing  the  Missourian,  "  but  if  I 
caught  your  words  aright,  you  would  seem  to  have  little 
confidence  in  nature ;  which,  really,  in  my  way  of 
thinking,  looks  like  carrying  the  spirit  of  distrust  pretty 
far." 

"  And  who  of  my  sublime  species  may  you  be  ?" 
turning  short  round  upon  him,  clicking  his  rifle-lock, 
with  an  air  which  would  have  seemed  half  cynic,  half 
wild-cat,  were  it  not  for  the  grotesque  excess  of  the  ex 
pression,  which  made  its  sincerity  appear  more  or  less 
dubious. 

"  One  who  has  confidence  in  nature,  and  confidence 
in  man,  with  some  little  modest  confidence  in  himself." 

"  That's  your  Confession  of  Faith,  is  it  ?  Confidence 
in  man,  eh?  Pray,  Which  do  you  think  are  most, 
knaves  or  fools?" 

"  Having  met  with  few  or  none  of  either,  I  hardly 
think  I  am  competent  to  answer." 

"  I  will  answer  for  you.     Fools  are  most." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?" 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  I  think  oats  are  numeri 
cally  more  than  horses.  Don't  knaves  munch  up  fools 
just  as  horses  do  oats  ?" 

"  A  droll,  sir  ;  you  are  a  droll.  I  can  appreciate 
drollery — ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"But  I'm  in  earnest." 

"  That's  the  drollery,  to  deliver  droll  extravagance 
with  an  earnest  air — knaves  munching  up  fools  as  horses 


AHARDCASE.  167 

oats. — Faith,  very  droll,  indeed,  ha,  ha,  ha!  Yes,  I 
think  I  understand  you  now,  sir.  How  silly  I  was  to 
have  taken  you  seriously,  in  your  droll  conceits,  too, 
about  having  no  confidence  in  nature.  In  reality  you 
have  just  as  much  as  I  have." 

"  I  have  confidence  in  nature  ?  I?  I  say  again  there 
is  nothing  I  am  more  suspicious  of.  I  once  lost  ten 
thousand  dollars  by  nature.  Nature  embezzled  that 
amount  from  me  ;  absconded  with  ten  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  my  property ;  a  plantation  on  this  stream, 
swept  clean  away  by  one  of  those  sudden  shiftings  of 
the  banks  in  a  freshet ;  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
alluvion  thrown  broad  off  upon  the  waters." 

"But  have  you  no  confidence  that  by  a  reverse  shift 
ing  that  soil  will  come  back  after  many  days  ? — ah,  here 
is  my  venerable  friend,"  observing  the  old  miser,  "  not 
in  your  berth  yet?  Pray,  if  you  will  keep  afoot,  don't 
lean  against  that  baluster  ;  take  my  arm." 

It  was  taken ;  and  the  two  stood  together ;  the  old 
miser  leaning  against  the  herb-doctor  with  something  of 
that  air  of  trustful  fraternity  with  which,  when  standing, 
the  less  strong  of  the  Siamese  twins  habitually  leans 
against  the  other. 

The  Missourian  eyed  them  in  silence,  which  was 
broken  by  the  herb-doctor. 

"  You  look  surprised,  sir.  Is  it  because  I  publicly 
take  under  my  protection  a  figure  like  this  ?  But  I  am 
never  ashamed  of  honesty,  whatever  his  coat." 

"  Look  you,"  said  the  Missourian,  after  a  scrutinizing 
pause,  "  you  are  a  queer  sort  of  chap.  Don't  know 


168  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

exactly  what  to  make  of  you.  Upon  the  whole  though, 
you  somewhat  remind  me  of  the  last  boy  I  had  on  my 
place." 

"  Good,  trustworthy  boy,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Oh,  very  !  I  am  now  started  to  get  me  made  some 
kind  of  machine  to  do  the  sort  of  work  which  boys  are 
supposed  to  be  fitted  for." 

"  Then  you  have  passed  a  veto  upon  boys  ?" 

"And  men,  too." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  does  not  that  again  imply  more  or 
less  lack  of  confidence  ? — (Stand  up  a  little,  just  a  very 
little,  my  venerable  friend  ;  you  lean  rather  hard.) — No 
confidence  in  boys,  no  confidence  in  men,  no  confidence 
in  nature.  Pray,  sir,  who  or  what  may  you  have  confi 
dence  in?" 

"  I  have  confidence  in  distrust ;  more  particularly  as 
applied  to  you  and  your  herbs." 

"  Well,"  with  a  forbearing  smile,  "that  is  frank.  But 
pray,  don't  forget  that  when  you  suspect  my  herbs  you 
suspect  nature." 

"  Didn't  I  say  that  before  ?" 

"  Very  good.  For  the  argument's  sake  I  will  suppose 
you  are  in  earnest.  Now,  can  you,  who  suspect  nature, 
deny,  that  this  same  nature  not  only  kindly  brought  you 
into  being,  but  has  faithfully  nursed  you  to  your  present 
vigorous  and  independent  condition?  Is  it  not  to  na 
ture  that  you  are  indebted  for  that  robustness  of  mind 
which  you  so  unhandsomely  use  to  her  scandal?  Pray, 
is  it  not  to  nature  that  you  owe  the  very  eyes  by  which 
you  criticise  her?" 


A      HARD      CASE.  169 

"  No  !  for  the  privilege  of  vision  I  am  indebted  to  an 
oculist,  who  in  my  tenth  year  operated  upon  me  in  Phila 
delphia.  Nature  made  me  blind  and  would  have  kept 
me  so.  My  oculist  counterplotted  her." 

"  And  yet,  sir,  by  your  complexion,  I  judge  you  live 
an  out-of-door  life ;  without  knowing  it,  you  are 
partial  to  nature ;  you  fly  to  nature,  the  universal 
mother." 

"  Very  motherly  !  Sir,  in  the  passion-fits  of  nature, 
I've  known  birds  fly  from  nature  to  me,  rough  as  I  look  ; 
yes,  sir,  in  a  tempest,  refuge  here,"  smiting  the  folds  of 
his  bearskin.  "  Fact,  sir.  fact.  Come,  come,  Mr.  Pala- 
verer,  for  all  your  palavering,  did  you  yourself  never 
shut  out  nature  of  a  cold,  wet  night  ?  Bar  her  out? 
Bolt  her  out  ?  Lint  her  out  ?" 

"  As  to  that,"  said  the  herb-doctor  calmly,  "  much 
may  be  said." 

"  Say  it,  then,"  ruffling  all  his  hairs.  "  You  can't, 
sir,  can't."  Then,  as  in  apostrophe:  "Look  you,  na 
ture  !  I  don't  deny  but  your  clover  is  sweet,  and  your 
dandelions  don't  roar ;  but  whose  hailstones  smashed 
my  windows?" 

"  Sir,"  with  unimpaired  affability,  producing  one  of 
his  boxes,  "  I  am  pained  to  meet  with  one  who  holds 
nature  a  dangerous  character.  Though  your  manner  is 
refined  your  voice  is  rough  ;  in  short,  you  seem  to  have 
a  sore  throat.  In  the  calumniated  name  of  nature,  I 
present  you  with  this  box ;  my  venerable  friend  here 
has  a  similar  one ;  but  to  you,  a  free  gift,  sir.  Through 
her  regularly-authorized  agents,  of  whom  I  happen  to 

R 


170  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

be  one,  Nature  delights  in  benefiting  those  who  most 
abuse  her.     Pray,  take  it." 

"  Away  with  it !  Don't  hold  it  so  near.  Ten  to  one 
there  is  a  torpedo  in  it.  Such  things  have  been.  Edit 
ors  been  killed  that  way.  Take  it  further  off,  I 
say." 

"  Good  heavens !  my  dear  sir — " 

41 1  tell  you  I  want  none  of  your  boxes,"  snapping  his 
rifle. 

"  Oh,  take  it — ugh,  ugh  !  do  take  it,"  chimed  in  the 
old  miser  ;  "  I  wish  he  would  give  me  one  for  nothing." 

"  You  find  it  lonely,  eh,"  turning  short  round  ;  "  gull 
ed  yourself,  you  would  have  a  companion." 

"How  can  he  find  it  lonely,"  returned  the  herb-doc 
tor,  "  or  how  desire  a  companion,  when  here  I  stand  by 
him;  I,  even  I,  in  whom  he  has  trust.  For  the  gulling, 
tell  me,  is  it  humane  to  talk  so  to  this  poor  old  man  ? 
Granting  that  his  dependence  on  my  medicine  is  vain, 
is  it  kind  to  deprive  him  of  what,  in  mere-imagination, 
if  nothing  more,  may  help  eke  out,  with  hope,  his 
disease  ?  For  you,  if  you  have  no  confidence,  and, 
thanks  to  your  native  health,  can  get  along  without  it, 
so  far,  at  least,  as  trusting  in  my  medicine  goes ;  yet, 
how  cruel  an  argument  to  use,  with  this  afflicted  one 
here.  Is  it  not  for  all  the  world  as  if  some  brawny 
pugilist,  aglow  in  December,  should  rush  in  and  put 
out  a  hospital-fire,  because,  forsooth,  he  feeling  no  need 
of  artificial  heat,  the  shivering  patients  shall  have  none  ? 
Put  it  to  your  conscience,  sir,  and  you  will  admit,  that, 
whatever  be  the  nature  of  this  afflicted  one's  trust,  you, 


AHARDCASE.  •        171 

in  opposing  it,  evince  either  an  erring  head  or  a  heart 
amiss.  Come,  own,  are  you  not  pitiless  ?" 

"  Yes,  poor  soul,"  said  the  Missourian,  gravely  eying 
the  old  man — "  yes,  it  is  pitiless  in  one  like  me  to 
speak  too  honestly  to  one  like  you.  You  are  a  late 
sitter-up  in  this  life  ;  past  man's  usual  bed-time ;  and 
truth,  though  with  some  it  makes  a  wholesome  break 
fast,  proves  to  all  a  supper  too  hearty.  Hearty  food, 
taken  late,  gives  bad  dreams." 

"  What,  in  wonder's  name — ugh,  ugh  ! — is  he  talking 
about  ?"  asked  the  old  miser,  looking  up  to  the  herb- 
doctor. 

"  Heaven  be  praised  for  that  !"  cried  the  Missourian. 

"  Out  of  his  mind,  ain't  he  ?"  again  appealed  the  old 
miser. 

"  Pray,  sir,"  said  the  herb-doctor  to  the  Missourian, 
"  for  what  were  you  giving  thanks  just  now  ?" 

"For  this  :  that,  with  some  minds,  truth  is,  in  effect, 
not  so  cruel  a  thing  after  all,  seeing  that,  like  a  load 
ed  pistol  found  by  poor  devils  of  savages,  it  raises 
more  wonder  than  terror — its  peculiar  virtue  being  un- 
guessed,  unless,  indeed,  by  indiscreet  handling,  it  should 
happen  to  go  off  of  itself." 

"  I  pretend  not  to  divine  your  meaning  there,"  said 
the  herb-doctor,  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  eyed  the 
Missourian  with  a  kind  of  pinched  expression,  mixed  of 
pain  and  curiosity,  as  if  he  grieved  at  his  state  of  mind, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  wondered  what  had  brought  him 
to  it,  "  but  this  much  I  know,"  he  added,  "  that  the 
general  cast  of  your  thoughts  is,  to  say  the  least,  unfor- 


172  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

tunate.  There  is  strength  in  them,  but  a  strength, 
whose  source,  being  physical,  must  wither.  You  will 
yet  recant." 

"  Recant  ?" 

"  Yes,  when,  as  with  this  old  man,  your  evil  days  of 
decay  come  on,  when  a  hoary  captive  in  your  chamber, 
then  will  you,  something  like  the  dungeoned  Italian  we 
read  of,  gladly  seek  the  breast  of  that  confidence  begot  in 
the  tender  time  of  your  youth,  blessed  beyond  telling 
if  it  return  to  you  in  age." 

"  Go  back  to  nurse  again,  eh  ?  Second  childhood, 
indeed.  You  are  soft." 

"Mercy,  mercy  !"  cried  the  old  miser,  "  what  is  all 
this! — ugh,  ugh!  Do  talk  sense,  my  good  friends. 
Ain't  you,"  to  the  Missourian,  "  going  to  buy  some  of 
that  medicine  ?" 

"  Pray,  my  venerable  friend,"  said  the  herb-doctor, 
now  trying  to  straighten  himself,  "  don't  lean  quite  so 
hard  ;  my  arm  grows  numb  ;  abate  a  little,  just  a  very 
little." 

"  Go,"  said  the  Missourian,  "  go  lay  down  in  your 
grave,  old  man,  if  you  can't  stand  of  yourself.  It's  a 
hard  world  for  a  leaner." 

"  As  to  his  grave,"  said  the  herb-doctor,  "  that  is  far 
enough  off,  so  he  but  faithfully  take  my  medicine." 

"  Ugh,  ugh,  ugh  ! — He  says  true.  No,  I  ain't — ugh  ! 
a  going  to  die  yet — ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !  Many  years  to  live 
yet,  ugh,  ugh,  ugh  !" 

"  I  approve  your  confidence,"  said  the  herb-doc 
tor  ;  "  but  your  coughing  distresses  me,  besides  being 


A      HARD      CASE.  173 

injurious  to  you.  Pray,  let  me  conduct  you  to  your 
berth.  You  are  best  there.  Our  friend  here  will  wait 
till  my  return,  I  know." 

With  which  he  led  the  old  miser  away,  and  then, 
coming  back,  the  talk  with  the  Missourian  was 
resumed. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  herb-doctor,  with  some  dignity  and 
more  feeling,  "  now  that  our  infirm  friend  is  withdrawn, 
allow  me,  to  the  full,  to  express  my  concern  at  the 
words  you  allowed  to  escape  you  in  his  hearing.  Some 
of  those  words,  if  I  err  not,  besides  being  calculated  to 
beget  deplorable  distrust  in  the  patient,  seemed  fitted  to 
convey  unpleasant  imputations  against  me,  his  phy 
sician." 

"  Suppose  they  did  ?"  with  a  menacing  air. 

"Why.  then — then,  indeed,"  respectfully  retreating, 
"  I  fall  back  upon  my  previous  theory  of  your  general 
facetiousness.  I  have  the  fortune  to  be  in  company  with 
a  humorist — a  wag." 

"  Fall  back  you  had  better,  and  wag  it  is,"  cried  the 
Missourian,  following  him  up,  and  wagging  his  raccoon 
tail  almost  into  the  herb-doctor's  face,  "  look  you  !" 

"  At  what  ?" 

"  At  this  coon.     Can  you,  the  fox,  catch  him  ?" 

"  If  you  mean,"  returned  the  other,  not  unselfpos- 
sessed,  "  whether  I  flatter  myself  that  I  can  in  any  way 
dupe  you,  o-r  impose  upon  you,  or  pass  myself  off  upon 
you  for  what  I  am  not,  I,  as  an  honest  man,  answer  that 
I  have  neither  the  inclination  nor  the  power  to  do  aught 
of  the  kind." 


174  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  Honest  man  ?  Seems  to  me  you  talk  more  like  a 
craven." 

"  You  in  vain  seek  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  me,  or  put 
any  affront  upon  me.  The  innocence  in  me  heals  me." 

"  A  healing  like  your  own  nostrums.  But  you  are  a 
queer  man — a  very  queer  and  dubious  man  ;  upon  the 
whole,  about  the  most  so  I  ever  met." 

The  scrutiny  accompanying  this  seemed  unwelcome 
to  the  diffidence  of  the  herb-doctor.  As  if  at  once  to 
attest  the  absence  of  resentment,  as  well  as  to  change 
the  subject,  he  threw  a  kind  of  familiar  cordiality  into 
his  air,  and  said :  "  So  you  are  going  to  get  some  ma 
chine  made  to  do  your  work  ?  Philanthropic  scruples, 
doubtless,  forbid  your  going  as  far  as  New  Orleans  for 
slaves?" 

"Slaves?"  morose  again  in  a  twinkling,  "  won't  have 
'em  !  Bad  enough  to  see  whites  ducking  and  grinning 
round  for  a  favor,  without  having  those  poor  devils  of 
niggers  congeeing  round  for  their  corn.  Though,  to  me, 
the  niggers  are  the  freer  of  the  two.  You  are  an  aboli 
tionist,  ain't  you  ?"  he  added,  squaring  himself  with 
both  hands  on  his  rifle,  used  for  a  staff,  and  gazing  in 
the  herb-doctor's  face  with  no  more  reverence  than  if  it 
were  a  target.  "  You  are  an  abolitionist,  ain't  you?" 

"  As  to  that,  I  cannot  so  readily  answer.  If  by  abo 
litionist  you  mean  a  zealot,  I  am  none  ;  but  if  you  mean 
a  man,  who,  being  a  man,  feels  for  all  men,  slaves  in 
cluded,  and  by  any  lawful  act,  opposed  to  nobody's 
interest,  and  therefore,  rousing  nobody's  enmity,  would 
willingly  abolish  suffering  (supposing  it,  in  its  degree, 


A      HARD      CASE.  175 

to  exist)  from  among  mankind,  irrespective  of  color, 
then  am  I  what  you  say." 

"  Picked  and  prudent  sentiments.  You  are  the  mode 
rate  man,  the  invaluable  understrapper  of  the  wicked 
man.  You.  the  moderate  man,  may  be  used  for  wrong, 
but  are  useless  for  right." 

;'  From  all  this,"  said  the  herb-doctor,  still  forgivingly, 
"  I  infer,  that  you,  a  Missourian,  though  living  in  a  slave- 
state,  are  without  slave  sentiments." 

"  Aye,  but  are  you  ?  Is  not  that  air  of  yours,  so 
spiritlessly  enduring  and  yielding,  the  very  air  of  a 
slave  ?  Who  is  your  master,  pray  ;  or  are  you  owned  by 
a  company  ?" 

"My  master?" 

"  Aye,  for  come  from  Maine  or  Georgia,  you  come 
from  a  slave-state,  and  a  slave-pen,  where  the  best 
breeds  are  to  be  bought  up  at  any  price  from  a  liveli 
hood  to  the  Presidency.  Abolitionism,  ye  gods,  but 
expresses  the  fellow-feeling  of  slave  for  slave." 

"  The  back-woods  would  seem  to  have  given  you 
rather  eccentric  notions,"  now  with  polite  superiority 
smiled  the  herb-doctor,  still  with  manly  intrepidity  for 
bearing  each  unmanly  thrust,  "  but  to  return  ;  since, 
for  your  purpose,  you  will  have  neither  man  nor  boy, 
bond  nor  free,  truly,  then  some  sort  of  machine  for  you 
is  all  there  is  left.  My  desires  for  your  success  attend 
you,  sir. — Ah  !"  glancing  shoreward,  "  here  is  Cape  Gira- 
deau  ;  I  must  leave  you." 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

IN   THE    POLITE   SPIRIT   OP   THE   TUSCULAN    DISPUTATIONS. 

— u  '  PHILOSOPHICAL  INTELLIGENCE  OFFICE' — novel 
idea!  But  how  did  you  come  to  dream  that  I  wanted 
anything  in  your  absurd  line,  eh?" 

About  twenty  minutes  after  leaving  Cape  Giradeau, 
the  above  was  growled  out  over  his  shoulder  by  the  Mis- 
sourian  to  a  chance  stranger  who  had  just  accosted 
him  ;  a  round-backed,  baker-kneed  man,  in  a  mean  five- 
dollar  suit,  wearing,  collar-wise  by  a  chain,  a  small  brass 
plate,  inscribed  P.  I.  O.y  and  who,  with  a  sort  of  canine 
deprecation,  slunk  obliquely  behind. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  dream  that  I  wanted  any 
thing  in  your  line,  eh  ?" 

"  Oh,  respected  sir,"  whined  the  other,  crouching  a 
pace  nearer,  and,  in  his  obsequiousness,  seeming  to  wag 
his  very  coat-tails  behind  him,  shabby  though  they  were, 
"  oh,  sir,  from  long  experience,  one  glance  tells  me  the 
gentleman  who  is  in  need  of  our  humble  services." 

"  But  suppose  I  did  want  a  boy — what  they  jocosely 
call  a  good  boy — how  could  your  absurd  office  help  me  ? 
— Philosophical  Intelligence  Office?" 


IN   THE   POLITE   SPIRIT,   ETC.      177 

"Yes,  respected  sir,  an  office  founded  on  strictly  philo 
sophical  and  physio — " 

"Look  you — come  up  here — how,  by  philosophy  or 
physiology  either,  make  good  boys  to  order  ?  Come  up 
here.  Don't  give  me  a  crick  in  the  neck.  Come  up 
here,  come,  sir,  come,"  calling  as  if  to  his  pointer. 
"  Tell  me,  how  put  the  requisite  assortment  of  good 
qualities  into  a  boy,  as  the  assorted  mince  into  the 
pie  ?" 

"  Respected  sir,  our  office — " 

"You  talk  much  of  that  office.  Where  is  it?  On 
board  this  boat  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  I  just  came  aboard.     Our  office — " 

"  Came  aboard  at  that  last  landing,  eh  ?  Pray,  do 
you  know  a  herb-doctor  there  ?  Smooth  scamp  in  a 
snuff-colored  surtout  ?" 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  was  but  a  sojourner  at  Cape  Giradeau. 
Though,  now  that  you  mention  a  snuff-colored  surtout,  I 
think  I  met  such  a  man  as  you  speak  of  stepping  ashore 
as  I  stepped  aboard,  and  'pears  to  me  I  have  seen  him 
somewhere  before.  Looks  like  a  very  mild  Christian 
sort  of  person,  I  should  say.  Do  you  know  him,  re 
spected  sir?" 

"  Not  much,  but  better  than  you  seem  to.  Proceed 
with  your  business." 

"With  a  low,  shabby  bow,  as  grateful  for  the  permis 
sion,  the  other  began  :  "  Our  office — " 

"  Look  you,"  broke  in  the  bachelor  with  ire,  "  have 
you  the  spinal  complaint  ?  What  are  you  ducking  and 
groveling  about?  Keep  still.  Where's  your  office?" 


178  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"The  branch  one  which  I  represent,  is  at  Alton,  sir, 
in  the  free  state  we  now  pass,"  (pointing  somewhat 
proudly  ashore). 

"Free,  eh?  You  a  freeman,  you  flatter  yourself? 
With  those  coat-tails  and  that  spinal  complaint  of  ser 
vility  ?  Free?  Just  cast  up  in  your  private  mind  who 
is  your  master,  will  you?" 

"Oh,  oh,  oh!  I  don't  understand — indeed — indeed. 
But,  respected  sir,  as  before  said,  our  office,  founded  on 
principles  wholly  new — " 

"  To  the  devil  with  your  principles !  Bad  sign  when 
a  man  begins  to  talk  of  his  principles.  Hold,  come 
back,  sir;  back  here,  back,  sir,  back!  I  tell  you  no 
more  boys  for  me.  Nay,  I'm  a  Mede  and  Persian.  In 
my  old  home  in  the  woods  I'm  pestered  enough  with 
squirrels,  weasels,  chipmunks,  skunks.  I  want  no  more 
wild  vermin  to  spoil  my  temper  and  waste  my  sub 
stance.  Don't  talk  of  boys;  enough  of  your  boys;  a 
plague  of  your  boys  ;  chilblains  on  your  boys  !  As  for 
Intelligence  Offices,  I've  lived  in  the  East,  and  know 
'em.  Swindling  concerns  kept  by  low-born  cynics,  un 
der  a  fawning  exterior  wreaking  their  cynic  malice  upon 
mankind.  You  are  a  fair  specimen  of 'em." 

"  Oh  dear,  dear,  dear!" 

"Dear?  Yes,  a  thrice  dear  purchase  one  of  your 
boys  would  be  to  me.  A  rot  on  your  boys  !" 

"But,  respected  sir,  if  you  will  not  have  boys,  might 
we  not,  in  our  small  way,  accommodate  you  with  a 
man  ?" 

"  Accommodate  ?     Pray,  no  doubt  you  could  accom- 


IN   THE   POLITE   SPIRIT,   ETC.      179 

modate  me  with  a  bosom-friend  too,  couldn't  you? 
Accommodate!  Obliging  word  accommodate:  there's 
accommodation  notes  now,  where  one  accommodates 
another  with  a  loan,  and  if  he  don't  pay  it  pretty  quickly, 
acommodates  him  with  a  chain  to  his  foot.  Accommo 
date  !  God  forbid  that  I  should  ever  be  accommodated. 
No,  no.  Look  you,  as  I  told  that  cousin-german  of 
yours,  the  herb-doctor,  I'm  now  on  the  road  to  get  me 
made  some  sort  of  machine  to  do  my  work.  Machines  for 
me.  My  cider-mill — does  that  ever  steal  my  cider?  My 
mowing-machine — does  that  ever  lay  a-bed  mornings  ? 
My  corn-husker — does  that  ever  give  me  insolence  ? 
No  :  cider-mill,  mowing-machine,  corn-husker — all  faith 
fully  attend  to  their  business.  Disinterested,  too;  no 
board,  no  wages ;  yet  doing  good  all  their  lives  long ; 
shining  examples  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward — the  only 
practical  Christians  I  know." 

"  Oh  dear,  dear,  dear,  dear  !" 

"Yes,  sir: — boys?  Start  my  soul-bolts,  what  a  dif 
ference,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  between  a  corn-husker 
and  a  boy  !  Sir,  a  corn-husker,  for  its  patient  continu 
ance  in  well-doing,  might  not  unfitly  go  to  heaven.  Do 
you  suppose  a  boy  will?" 

"  A  corn-husker  in  heaven !  (turning  up  the  whites 
of  his  eyes).  Respected  sir,  this  way  of  talking  as  if 
heaven  were  a  kind  of  Washington  patent-office  mu 
seum — oh,  oh,  oh  ! — as  if  mere  machine-work  and  pup 
pet-work  went  to  heaven — oh,  oh,  oh  !  Things  incapa 
ble  of  free  agency,  to  receive  the  eternal  reward  of  well 
doing — oh,  oh,  oh  !" 


180  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

'*  You  Praise-God-Barebones  you,  what  are  you  groan 
ing  about  ?  Did  I  say  anything  of  that  sort  ?  Seems  to 
me,  though  you  talk  so  good,  you  are  mighty  quick  at  a 
hint  the  other  way,  or  else  you  want  to  pick  a  polemic 
quarrel  with  me." 

"  It  may  be  so  or  not,  respected  sir,"  was  now  the  de 
mure  reply ;  "  but  if  it  be,  it  is  only  because  as  a  soldier 
out  of  honor  is  quick  in  taking  affront,  so  a  Christian 
out  of  religion  is  quick,  sometimes  perhaps  a  little  too 
much  so,  in  spying  heresy." 

"Well,"  after  an  astonished  pause,  "for  an  unac 
countable  pair,  you  and  the  herb-doctor  ought  to  yoke 
together." 

So  saying,  the  bachelor  was  eying  him  rather  sharply, 
when  he  with  the  brass  plate  recalled  him  to  the  discus 
sion  by  a  hint,  not  unflattering,  that  he  (the  man  with 
the  brass  plate)  was  all  anxiety  to  hear  him  further  on 
the  subject  of  servants. 

"  About  that  matter,"  exclaimed  the  impulsive  bache 
lor,  going  off  at  the  hint  like  a  rocket,  "  all  thinking 
minds  are,  now-a-days,  coming  to  the  conclusion — one 
derived  from  an  immense  hereditary  experience — see 
what  Horace  and  others  of  the  ancients  say  of  servants — 
coming  to  the  conclusion,  I  say,  that  boy  or  man,  the 
human  animal  is,  for  most  work-purposes,  a  losing  ani 
mal.  •  Can't  be  trusted;  less  trustworthy  than  oxen; 
for  conscientiousness  a  turn-spit  dog  excels  him.  Hence 
these  thousand  new  inventions — carding  machines,  horse 
shoe  machines,  tunnel-boring  machines,  reaping  ma 
chines,  apple-paring  machines,  boot-blacking  machines. 


IN   THE   POLITE   SPIRIT,   ETC.     181 

sewing  machines,  shaving  machines,  run-of-errand  ma 
chines,  dumb-waiter  machines,  and  the  Lord-only-knows- 
what  machines ;  all  of  which  announce  the  era  when 
that  refractory  animal,  the  working  or  serving  man, 
shall  be  a  buried  by-gone,  a  superseded  fossil.  Shortly 
prior  to  which  glorious  time,  I  c|pubt  not  that  a  price 
will  be  put  upon  their  peltries  as  upon  the  knavish 
'possums,'  especially  the  boys.  Yes,  sir  (ringing  his 
rifle  down  on  the  deck),  I  rejoice  to  think  that  the 
day  is  at  hand,  when,  prompted  to  it  by  law,  I  shall 
shoulder  this  gun  and  go  out  a  boy-shooting." 

"  Oh,  now  !  Lord,  Lord,  Lord! — But  our  office,  re 
spected  sir,  conducted  as  I  ventured  to  observe — " 

"No,  sir,"  bristlingly  settling  his  stubble  chin  in  his 
coon-skins.  "  Don't  try  to  oil  me ;  the  herb-doctor 
tried  that.  My  experience,  carried  now  through  a  course 
— worse  than  salivation — a  course  of  five  and  thirty 
boys,  proves  to  me  that  boyhood  is  a  natural  state  of 
rascality." 

"  Save  us,  save  us  !" 

"  Yes,  sir,  yes.  My  name  is  Pitch  ;  I  stick  to  what  I 
say.  I  speak  from  fifteen  years'  experience ;  five  and 
thirty  boys  ;  American,  Irish,  English,  German,  African, 
Mulatto;  not  to  speak  of  that  China  boy  sent  me  by 
one  who  well  knew  my  perplexities,  from  California ; 
and  that  Lascar  boy  from  Bombay.  Thug  !  I  found 
him  sucking  the  embryo  life  from  my  spring  eggs.  All 
rascals,  sir,  every  soul  of  them  ;  Caucasian  or  Mongol. 
Amazing  the  endless  variety  of  rascality  in  human  na 
ture  of  the  juvenile  sort.  I  remember  that,  having  dis- 


182  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

charged,  one  after  another,  twenty-nine  boys — each,  too, 
for  some  wholly  unforeseen  species  ofviciousness  peculiar 
to  that  one  peculiar  boy — I  remember  saying  to  myself: 
Now,  then,  surely,  I  have  got  to  the  end  of  the  list, 
wholly  exhausted  it ;  I  have  only  now  to  get  me  a  boy, 
any  boy  different  from  those  twenty-nine  preceding 
boys,  and  he  infallibly  shall  be  that  virtuous  boy  I  have 
so  long  been  seeking.  But,  bless  me  !  this  thirtieth  boy — 
by  the  way,  having  at  the  time  long  forsworn  your  in 
telligence  offices,  I  had  him  sent  to  me  from  the  Com 
missioners  of  Emigration,  all  the  way  from  New  York, 
culled  out  carefully,  in  fine,  at  my  particular  request, 
from  a  standing  army  of  eight  hundred  boys,  the 
flowers  of  all  nations,  so  they  wrote  me,  temporarily  in 
barracks  on  an  East  River  island — I  say,  this  thirtieth 
boy  was  in  person  not  ungraceful ;  his  deceased  mo 
ther  a  lady's  maid,  or  something  of  that  sort ;  and 
in  manner,  why,  in  a  plebeian  way,  a  perfect  Chester 
field  ;  very  intelligent,  too — quick  as  a  flash.  But, 
such  suavity  !  *  Please  sir  !  please  sir  !'  always  bowing 
and  saying,  *  Please  sir.'  In  the  strangest  way,  too,  com 
bining  a  filial  affection  with  a  menial  respect.  Took 
such  warm,  singular  interest  in  my  affairs.  Wanted  to 
be  considered  one  of  the  family — sort  of  adopted  son  of 
mine,  I  suppose.  Of  a  morning,  when  I  \vould  go  out 
to  my  stable,  with  what  childlike  good  nature  he  would 
trot  out  my  nag,  4  Please  sir,  I  think  he's  getting  fat 
ter  and  fatter-'  *  But,  lie  don't  look  very  clean,  does 
he  ¥  unwilling  to  be  downright  harsh  with  so  affec 
tionate  a  lad  ;  'and  he  seems  a  little  hollow  inside  the 


IN   THE   POLITE   SPIRIT,   ETC.      183 

haunch  there,  don't  he  ?  or  no,  perhaps  I  don't  see  plain 
this  morning.'  '  Oh,  please  sir,  it's  just  there  I  think 
he's  gaining  so,  please.'  Polite  scamp  !  I  soon  found 
he  never  gave  that  wretched  nag  his  oats  of  nights; 
didn't  bed  him  either.  Was  above  that  sort  of  cham 
bermaid  work.  No  end  to  his  willful  neglects.  But  the 
more  he  abused  my  service,  the  more  polite  he  grew." 
"  Oh,  sir,  some  way  you  mistook  him.  " 
"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Besides,  sir,  he  was  a  boy  who  un 
der  a  Chesterfieldian  exterior  hid  strong  destructive  pro 
pensities.  He  cut  up  my  horse-blanket  for  the  bits  of 
leather,  for  hinges  to  his  chest.  Denied  it  point-blank. 
After  he  was  gone,  found  the  shreds  under  his  mattress. 
Would  slyly  break  his  hoe-handle,  too,  on  purpose  to 
get  rid  of  hoeing.  Then  be  so  gracefully  penitent  for 
his  fatal  excess  of  industrious  strength.  Offer  to  mend 
all  by  taking  a  nice  stroll  to  the  nighest  settlement — 
cherry-trees  in  full  bearing  all  the  way — to  get  the  bro 
ken  thing  cobbled.  Very  politely  stole  my  pears,  odd 
pennies,  shillings,  dollars,  and  nuts  ;  regular  squirrel  at 
it.  But  I  could  prove  nothing.  Expressed  to  him  my 
suspicions.  Said  I,  moderately  enough,  «  A  little  less 
politeness,  and  a  little  more  honesty  would  suit  me  bet 
ter.'  He  fired  up  ;  threatened  to  sue  for  libel.  I  won't 
say  anything  about  his  afterwards,  in  Ohio,  being  found 
in  the  act  of  gracefully  putting  a  bar  across  a  rail-road 
track,  for  the  reason  that  a  stoker  called  him  the  rogue 
that  he  was.  But  enough :  polite  boys  or  saucy  boys, 
white  boys  or  black  boys,  smart  boys  or  lazy  boys, 
Caucasian  boys  or  Mongol  boys — all  are  rascals." 


184  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"  Shocking,  shocking !"  nervously  tucking  his  frayed 
cravat-end  out  of  sight.  "  Surely,  respected  sir,  youlabor 
under  a  deplorable  hallucination.  Why,  pardon  again, 
you  seem  to  have  not  the  slightest  confidence  in  boys.  I 
admit,  indeed,  that  boys,  some  of  them  at  least,  are  but 
too  prone  to  one  little  foolish  foible  or  other.  But,  what 
then,  respected  sir,  when,  by  natural  laws,  they  finally 
outgrow  such  things,  and  wholly  ?" 

Having  until  now  vented  himself  mostly  in  plaintive 
dissent  of  canine  whines  and  groans,  the  man  with  the 
brass-plate  seemed  beginning  to  summon  courage  to  a 
less  timid  encounter.  But,  upon  his  maiden  essay,  was 
not  very  encouragingly  handled,  since  the  dialogue  im 
mediately  continued  as  follows : 

"  Boys  outgrow  what  is  amiss  in  them  ?  From  bad 
boys  spring  good  men  ?  Sir,  '  the  child  is  father  of  the 
man  ;'  hence,  as  all  boys  are  rascals,  so  are  all  men. 
But,  God  bless  me,  you  must  know  these  things  better 
than  I ;  keeping  an  intelligence  office  as  you  do  ;  a  busi 
ness  which  must  furnish  peculiar  facilities  for  studying 
mankind.  Come,  come  up  here,  sir  ;  confess  you  know 
these  things  pretty  well,  after  all.  Do  you  not  know 
that  all  men  are  rascals,  and  all  boys,  too  ?" 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  other,  spite  of  his  shocked  feelings 
seeming  to  pluck  up  some  spirit,  but  not  to  an  indiscreet 
degree,  "  Sir,  heaven  be  praised,  I  am  far,  very  far  from 
knowing  what  you  say.  True,"  he  thoughtfully  con 
tinued,  "  with  my  associates,  I  keep  an  intelligence 
office,  and  for  ten  years,  come  October,  have,  one  way 
or  other,  been  concerned  in  that  line  ;  for  no  small  pe- 


IN   THE   POLITE   SPIRIT,   ETC.      185 

riod  in  the  great  city  of  Cincinnati,  too  ;  and  though,  as 
you  hint,  within  that  long  interval,  I  must  have  had 
more  or  less  favorable  opportunity  for  studying  man 
kind — in  a  business  way,  scanning  not  only  the  faces, 
but  ransacking  the  lives  of  several,  thousands  of  human 
beings,  male  and  female,  of  various  nations,  both  em 
ployers  and  employed,  genteel  and  ungenteel,  educated 
and  uneducated  ;  yet — of  course,  I  candidly  admit,  with 
some  random  exceptions,  I  have,  so  far  as  my  small  ob 
servation  goes,  found  that  mankind  thus  domestically 
viewed,  confidentially  viewed,  I  may  say  ;  they,  upon  the 
whole — making  some  reasonable  allowances  for  human 
imperfection — present  as  pure  a  moral  spectacle  as  the 
purest  angel  could  wish.  I  say  it,  respected  sir,  with 
confidence." 

"  Gammon !  You  don't  mean  what  you  say.  Else 
you  are  like  a  landsman  at  sea :  don't  know  the  ropes, 
the  very  things  everlastingly  pulled  before  your  eyes. 
Serpent-like,  they  glide  about,  traveling  blocks  too 
subtle  for  you.  In  short,  the  entire  ship  is  a  riddle. 
Why,  you  green  ones  wouldn't  know  if  she  were  unsea- 
worthy ;  but  still,  with  thumbs  stuck  back  into  your 
arm-holes,  pace  the  rotten  planks,  singing,  like  a  fool, 
words  put  into  your  green  mouth  by  the  cunning  owner, 
the  man  who,  heavily  insuring  it,  sends  his  ship  to  be 
wrecked — 

'  A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea  !' — 

and,  sir,  now  that  it  occurs  to  me,  your  talk,  the 
whole  of  it,  is  but  a  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea,  and 


186  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

an  idle  wind  that  follows  fast,  offering  a  striking  con 
trast  to  my  own  discourse." 

"Sir,"  exclaimed  the,  man  with  the  brass-plate,  his 
patience  now  more  or  less  tasked,  "  permit  me  with 
deference  to  hint  that  some  of  your  remarks  are  injudi 
ciously  worded.  And  thus  we  say  to  our  patrons,  when 
they  enter  our  office  full  of  abuse  of  us  because  of  some 
worthy  boy  we  may  have  sent  them — some  boy  wholly 
misjudged  for  the  time.  Yes,  sir,  permit  me  to  remark 
that  you  do  not  sufficiently  consider  that,  though  a  small 
man,  I  may  have  my  small  share  of  feelings." 

"  Well,  well,  I  didn't  mean  to  wound  your  feelings  at 
all.  And  that  they  are  small,  very  small,  I  take  your 
word  for  it.  Sorry,  sorry.  But  trjith  is  like  a  'thrash 
ing-machine  ;  tender  sensibilities  must  keep  out  of  the 
way.  Hope  you  understand  me.  Don't  want  to  hurt 
you.  All  I  say  is,  what  I  said  in  the  first  place,  only 
now  I  swear  it,  that  all  boys  are  rascals." 

"  Sir,"  lowly  replied  the  other,  still  forbearing  like  an 
old  lawyer  badgered  in  court,  or  else  like  a  good-hearted 
simpleton,  the  butt  of  mischievous  wags,  "  Sir,  since 
you  come  back  to  the  point,  will  you  allow  me,  in  my 
small,  quiet  way,  to  submit  to  you  certain  small,  quiet 
views  of  the  subject  in  hand?" 

"  Oh,  yes !"  with  insulting  indifference,  rubbing  his 
chin  and  looking  the  other  way.  "  Oh,  yes ;  go  on." 

"  Well,  then,  respected  sir,"  continued  the  other,  now 
assuming  as  genteel  an  attitude  as  the  irritating  set  of 
his  pinched  five-dollar  suit  would  permit;  "  well,  then, 
sir,  the  peculiar  principles,  the  strictly  philosophical 


IN      THE      POLITE      SPIRIT,      ETC.  187 

principles,  I  may  say,"  guardedly  rising  in  dignity,  as 
he  guardedly  rose  on  his  toes,  "  upon  which  our  office  is 
founded,  has  led  me  and  my  associates,  in  our  small, 
quiet  way,  to  a  careful  analytical  study  of  man,  con 
ducted,  too,  on  a  quiet  theory,  and  with  an  unobtrusive 
aim  wholly  our  own.  That  theory  I  will  not  now  at 
large  set  forth.  But  some  of  the  discoveries  resulting 
from  it,  I  will,  by  your  permission,  very  briefly  men 
tion  ;  such  of  them,  I  mean,  as  refer  to  the  state  of  boy 
hood  scientifically  viewed." 

"  Then  you  have  studied  the  thing?  expressly  studied 
boys,  eh  ?  Why  didn't  you  out  with  that  before  ?" 

"  Sir,  in  my  small  business  way,  I  have  not  conversed 
with  so  many  masters,  gentlemen  masters,  for  nothing. 
I  have  been  taught  that  in  this  world  there  is  a  prece 
dence  of  opinions  as  well  as  of  persons.  You  have 
kindly  given  me  your  views,  I  am  now,  with  modesty, 
about  to  give  you  mine." 

"  Stop  flunkying — gcron." 

"  In  the  first  place,  sir,  our  theory  teaches  us  to  pro 
ceed  by  analogy  from  the  physical  to  the  moral.  Are 
we  right  there,  sir?  Now,  sir,  take  a  young  boy,  a 
young  male  infant  rather,  a  man-child  in  short — what 
sir,  I  respectfully  ask,  do  you  in  the  first  place  remark?" 

"  A  rascal,  sir  !  present  and  prospective,  a  rascal !" 

"  Sir,  if  passion  is  to  invade,  surely  science  must 
evacuate.  May  I  proceed?  Well,  then,  what,  in  the 
first  place,  in  a  general  view,  do  you  remark,  respected 
sir,  in  that  male  baby  or  man-child  ?" 

The  bachelor  privily  growled,  but  this  time,  upon  the 


188  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

whole,  better  governed  himself  than  before,  though  not, 
indeed,  to  the  degree  of  thinking  ifc  prudent  to  risk  an 
articulate  response. 

"What  do  you  remark?  I  respectfully  repeat." 
But,  as  no  answer  came,  only  the  low,  half-suppressed 
growl,  as  of  Bruin  in  a  hollow  trunk,  the  questioner  con 
tinued  :  "  Well,  sir,  if  you  will  permit  me,  in  my  small  way, 
to  speak  for  you,  you  remark,  respected  sir,  an  incipient 
creation  ;  loose  sort  of  sketchy  thing  ;  a  little  preliminary 
rag-paper  study,  or  careless  cartoon,  so  to  speak,  of  a 
man.  The  idea,  you  see,  respected  sir,  is  there  ;  but,  as 
yet,  wants  filling  out.  In  a  word,  respected  sir,  the 
man-child  is  at  present  but  little,  every  way  ;  I  don'fc 
pretend  to  deny  it;  but,  then,  he  promises  well,  does  he 
not  ?  Yes,  promises  very  well  indeed,  I  may  say.  (So, 
too,  we  say  to  our  patrons  in  reference  to  some  noble 
little  youngster  objected  to  for  being  a  dwarf.)  But,  to 
advance  one  step  further,"  extending  his  thread-bare  leg, 
as  he  drew  a  pace  nearer,  "  we  must  now  drop  the 
figure  of  the  rag-paper  cartoon,  and  borrow  one — to  use 
presently,  when  wanted — from  the  horticultural  king 
dom.  Some  bud,  lily-bud,  if  you  please.  Now,  such 
points  as  the  new-born  man-child  has — as  yet  not  all 
that  could  be  desired,  I  am  free  to  confess — still,  such 
as  they  are,  there  they  are,  and  palpable  as  those  of  an 
adult.  But  we  stop  not  here,"  taking  another  step. 
"  The  man-child  not  only  possesses  these  present  points, 
small  though  they  are,  but,  likewise — now  our  horti 
cultural  image  comes  into  play — like  the  bud  of  the  lily, 
he  contains  concealed  rudiments  of  others ;  that  is, 


IN   THE   POLITE   SPIRIT,   ETC.      189 

points  at  present  invisible,   with  beauties  at  present 
dormant." 

"  Come,  come,  this  talk  is  getting  too  horticultural 
and  beautiful  altogether.  Cut  it  short,  cut  it  short !" 

"  Respected  sir,"  with  a  rustily  martial  sort  of  gesture, 
like  a  decayed  corporal's,  "  when  deploying  into  the 
field  of  discourse  the  vanguard  of  an  important  argu 
ment,  much  more  in  evolving  the  grand  central  forces 
of  a  new  philosophy  of  boys,  as  I  may  say,  surely  you 
will  kindly  allow  scope  adequate  to  the  movement  in 
hand,  small  and  humble  in  its  way  as  that  movement 
may  be.  Is  it  worth  my  while  to  go  on,  respected 
sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  stop  flunkying  and  go  on." 

Thus  encouraged,  again  the  philosopher  with  the  brass- 
plate  proceeded : 

"Supposing,  sir,  that  worthy  gentleman  (in  such 
terms,  to  an  applicant  for  service,  we  allude  to  some 
patron  we  chance  to  have  in  our  eye),  supposing,  re 
spected  sir,  that  worthy  gentleman,  Adam,  to  have  been 
dropped  overnight  in  Eden,  as  a  calf  in  the  pasture ; 
supposing  that,  sir — then  how  could  even  the  learned 
serpent  himself  have  foreknown  that  such  a  downy- 
chinned  little  innocent  would  eventually  rival  the  goat 
in  a  beard?  Sir,  wise  as  the  serpent  was,  that  eventu 
ality  would  have  been  entirely  hidden  from  his  wisdom." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  The  devil  is  very  saga 
cious.  To  judge  by  the  event,  he  appears  to  have 
understood  man  better  even  than  the  Being  who  made 
him." 


190  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  say  that,  sir!  To  the  point. 
Can  it  now  with  fairness  be  denied  that,  in  his  beard,  the 
man-child  prospectively  possesses  an  appendix,  not  less 
imposing  than  patriarchal ;  and  for  this  goodly  beard, 
should  we  not  by  generous  anticipation  give  the  man- 
child,  even  in  his  cradle,  credit?  Should  we  not  now, 
sir?  respectfully  I  put  it." 

"  Yes,  if  like  pig-weed  he  mows  it  down  soon  as  it 
shoots,"  porcinely  rubbing  his  stubble-chin  against  his 
coon-skins. 

"  I  have  hinted  at  the  analogy,"  continued  the  other, 
calmly  disregardful  of  the  digression  ;  "now  to  apply  it. 
Suppose  a  boy  evince  no  noble  quality.  Then  gener 
ously  give  him  credit  for  his  prospective  one.  Don't  you 
see?  So  we  say  to  our  patrons  when  they  would  fain 
return  a  boy  upon  us  as  unworthy :  '  Madam,  or  sir, 
(as  the  case  may  be)  has  this  boy  a  beard  ?'  *  No.' 
*  Has  he,  we  respectfully  ask,  as  yet,  evinced  any  noble 
quality?'  'No,  indeed.'  '  Then,  madam,  or  sir,  take  him 
back,  we  humbly  beseech  ;  and  keep  him  till  that  same 
noble  quality  sprouts ;  for,  have  confidence,  it,  like  the 
beard,  is  in  him.'  " 

"  Very  fine  theory,"  scornfully  exclaimed  the  bache 
lor,  yet  in  secret,  perhaps,  not  entirely  undisturbed  by 
these  strange  new  views  of  the  matter ;  "  but  what  trust 
is  to  be  placed  in  it?" 

"  The  trust  of  perfect  confidence,  sir.  To  proceed. 
Once  more,  if  you  please,  regard  the  man-child." 

**  Hold  !"  paw-like  thrusting  out  his  bearskin  arm, 
"  don't  intrude  that  man-child  upon  me  too  often.  He 


IN   THE   POLITE   SPIRIT,   ETC.      191 

who  loves  not  bread,  dotes  not  on  dough.  As  little  of 
your  man-child  as  your  logical  arrangements  will 
admit." 

"  Anew  regard  the  man-child,"  with  inspired  intre 
pidity  repeated  he  with  the  brass-plate,  "  in  the  perspect 
ive  of  his  developments,  I  mean.  At  first  the  man-child 
has  no  teeth,  but  about  the  sixth  month — am  I  right, 
sir?" 

"  Don't  know  anything  about  it." 

"  To  proceed  then  :  though  at  first  deficient  in  teeth, 
about  the  sixth  month  the  man-child  begins  to  put  forth 
in  that  particular.  And  sweet  those  tender  little  put- 
tings-forth  are." 

"  Very,  but  blown  out  of  his  mouth  directly,  worthless 
enough." 

"  Admitted.  And,  therefore,  we  say  to  our  patrons  re 
turning  with  a  boy  alleged  not  only  to  be  deficient  in 
goodness,  but  redundant  in  ill :  *  The  lad,  madam  or  sir, 
evinces  very  corrupt  qualities,  does  he  ?'  *  No  end  to 
them.'  «  But,  have  confidence,  there  will  be ;  for  pray, 
madam,  in  this  lad's  early  childhood,  were  not  those 
frail  first  teeth,  then  his,  followed  by  his  present  sound, 
even,  beautiful  and  permanent  set.  And  the  more  ob 
jectionable  those  first  teeth  became,  was  not  that,  ma 
dam,  we  respectfully  submit,  so  much  the  more  reason 
to  look  for  their  speedy  substitution  by  the  present 
sound,  even,  beautiful  and  permanent  ones.'  '  True, 
true,  can't  deny  that.'  '  Then,  madam,  take  him  back, 
we  respectfully  beg,  and  wait  till,  in  the  now  swift 
course  of  nature,  dropping  those  transient  moral  blem- 


192  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

ishes  you  complain  of,  he  replacingly  buds  forth  in  the 
sound,  even,  beautiful  and  permanent  virtues.'  " 

"Very  philosophical  again,"  was  the  contemptuous 
reply — the  outward  contempt,  perhaps,  proportioned  to 
the  inward  misgiving.  "Vastly  philosophical,  indeed,  but 
tell  me — to  continue  your  analogy — since  the  second 
teeth  followed — in  fact,  came  from — the  first,  is  there 
no  chance  the  blemish  may  be  transmitted  ?" 

"  Not  at  all."  Abating  in  humility  as  he  gained  in 
the  argument.  "  The  second  teeth  follow,  but  do  not 
come  from,  the  first;  successors,  not  sons.  The  first 
teeth  are  not  like  the  germ  blossom  of  the  apple,  at 
once  the  father  of,  and  incorporated  into,  the  growth  it 
foreruns ;  but  they  are  thrust  from  their  place  by  the 
independent  undergrowth  of  the  succeeding  set — an 
illustration,  by  the  way,  which  shows  more  for  me  than 
I  meant,  though  not  more  than  I  wish." 

"  What  does  it  show  ?"  Surly-looking  as  a  thunder 
cloud  with  the  inkept  unrest  of  unacknowledged  con 
viction. 

"  It  shows  this,  respected  sir,  that  in  the  case  of  any 
boy,  especially  an  ill  one,  to  apply  unconditionally  the 
saying,  that  the  « child  is  father  of  the  man',  is,  besides 
implying  an  uncharitable  aspersion  of  the  race,  affirming 
a  thing  very  wide  of — " 

" — Your  analogy,"  like  a  snapping  turtle. 

"  Yes,  respected  sir." 

"But  is  analogy  argument?     You  are  a  punster." 

"Punster,  respected  sir?"  with  a  look  of  being  ag 
grieved. 


IN      THE      POLITE      SPIRIT,      ETC.  193 

"  Yes,  you  pun  with  ideas  as  another  man  may  with 
words." 

"  Oh  well,  sir,  whoever  talks  in  that  strain,  whoever 
has  no  confidence  in  human  reason,  whoever  despises 
human  reason,  in  vain  to  reason  with  him.  Still,  re 
spected  sir,"  altering  his  air,  "  permit  me  to  hint  that, 
had  not  the  force  of  analogy  moved  you  somewhat,  you 
would  hardly  have  offered  to  contemn  it." 

"Talk  away,"  disdainfully;  "  but  pray  tell  me  what 
has  that  last  analogy  of  yours  to  do  with  your  intelli 
gence  office  business?" 

"Everything  to  do  with  it,  respected  sir.  From  that 
analogy  we  derive  the  reply  made  to  such  a  patron  as, 
shortly  after  being  supplied  by  us  with  an  adult  servant, 
proposes  to  return  him  upon  our  hands ;  not  that,  while 
with  the  patron,  said  adult  has  given  any  cause  of  dis 
satisfaction,  but  the  patron  has  just  chanced  to  hear 
something  unfavorable  concerning  him  from  some 
gentleman  who  employed  said  adult  long  before,  while 
a  boy.  To  which  too  fastidious  patron,  we,  taking  said 
adult  by  the  hand,  and  graciously  reintroducing  him  to 
the  patron,  say :  '  Far  be  it  from  you,  madam,  or  sir, 
to  proceed  in  your  censure  against  this  adult,  in  any 
thing  of  the  spirit  of  an  ex-post-facto  law.  Madam,  or 
sir,  would  you  visit  upon  the  butterfly  the  sins  of  the 
caterpillar  ?  In  the  natural  advance  of  all  creatures,  do 
they  not  bury  themselves  over  and  over  again  in  the 
endless  resurrection  of  better  and  better  ?  Madam,  or  sir, 
take  back  this  adult ;  he  may  have  been  a  caterpillar, 
but  is  now  a  butterfly." 


194  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"  Pun  away;  but  even  accepting  your  analogical  pun, 
what  does  it  amount  to?  Was  the  caterpillar  one  crea 
ture,  and  is  the  butterfly  another  ?  The  butterfly  is  the 
caterpillar  in  a  gaudy  cloak  ;  stripped  of  which,  there 
lies  the  impostor's  long  spindle  of  a  body,  pretty  much 
worm-shaped  as  before." 

"You  reject  the  analogy.  To  the  facts  then.  You 
deny  that  a  youth  of  one  character  can  be  transformed 
into  a  man  of  an  opposite  character.  Now  then — yes, 
I  have  it.  There's  the  founder  of  La  Trappe,  and  Igna 
tius  Loyola ;  in  boyhood,  and  someway  into  manhood, 
both  devil-may-care  bloods,  and  yet,  in  the  end,  the 
wonders  of  the  world  for  anchoritish  self-command. 
These  two  examples,  by-the-way,  we  cite  to  such  pa 
trons  as  would  hastily  return  rakish  young  waiters  upon 
us.  'Madam,  or  sir — patience  ;  patience,'  we  say;  '  good 
madam,  or  sir,  would  you  discharge  forth  your  cask  of 
good  wine,  because,  while  working,  it  riles  more  or  less  ? 
Then  discharge  not  forth  this  young  waiter ;  the  good  in 
him  is  working.'  '  But  he  is  a  sad  rake.'  *  Therein  is 
his  promise  ;  the  rake  being  crude  material  for  the 
saint.'  " 

"  Ah,  you  are  a  talking  man — what  I  call  a  wordy 
man.  You  talk,  talk." 

"And  with  submission,  sir,  what  is  the  greatest  judge, 
bishop  or  prophet,  but  a  talking  man  ?  He  talks,  talks. 
It  is  the  peculiar  vocation  of  a  teacher  to  talk.  What's 
wisdom  itself  but  table-talk?  The  best  wisdom  in  this 
world,  and  the  last  spoken  by  its  teacher,  did  it  not 
literally  and  truly  come  in  the  form  of  table-talk  ?" 


IN      THE      POLITE      SPIRIT,      ETC.  195 

"  You,  you  you  !"  rattling  down  his  rifle. 

"  To  shift  the  subject,  since  we  cannot  agree.  Pray, 
what  is  your  opinion,  respected  sir,  of  St.  Augus 
tine  ?" 

"  St.  Augustine  ?  What  should  I,  or  you  either,  know 
of  him  ?  Seems  to  me,  for  one  in  such  a  business,  to  say 
nothing  of  such  a  coat,  that  though  you  don't  know  a 
great  deal,  indeed,  yet  you  know  a  good  deal  more  than 
you  ought  to  know,  or  than  you  have  a  right  to  know, 
or  than  it  is  safe  or  expedient  for  you  to  know,  or 
than,  in  the  fair  course  of  life,  you  could  have  honestly 
come  to  know.  I  am  of  opinion  you  should  be  served 
like  a  Jew  in  the  middle  ages  with  his  gold  ;  this  knowl 
edge  of  yours,  which  you  haven't  enough  knowledge  to 
know  how  to  make  a  right  use  of,  it  should  be  taken 
from  you.  And  so  I  have  been  thinking  all  along." 

"  You  are  merry,  sir.  But  you  have  a  little  looked 
into  St.  Augustine  I  suppose. 

"  St.  Augustine  on  Original  Sin  is  my  text  book. 
But  you,  I  ask  again,  where  do  you  find  time  or  inclina 
tion  for  these  out-of-the-way  speculations  ?  In  fact, 
your  whole  talk,  the  more  I  think  of  it,  is  altogether  un 
exampled  and  extraordinary." 

"  Respected  sir,  have  I  not  already  informed  you  that 
the  quite  new  method,  the  strictly  philosophical  one,  on 
which  our  office  is  founded,  has  led  me  and  my  associ 
ates  to  an  enlarged  study  of  mankind.  It  was  my  fault, 
if  I  did  not,  likewise,  hint,  that  these  studies  directed 
always  to  the  scientific  procuring  of  good  servants  of  all 
sorts,  boys  included,  for  the  kind  gentlemen,  our  patrons 


196  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

— that  these  studies,  I  say,  have  been  conducted  equally 
among  all  books  of  all  libraries,  as  among  all  men  of  all 
nations.  Then,  you  rather  like  St.  Augustine,  sir  ?" 

"  Excellent  genius  !" 

"  In  some  points  he  was  ;  yet,  how  comes  it  that  un 
der  his  own  hand,  St.  Augustine  confesses  that,  until  his 
thirtieth  year,  he  was  a  very  sad  dog  ?" 

"  A  saint  a  sad  dog  ?" 

"  Not  the  saint,  but  the  saint's  irresponsible  little 
forerunner — the  boy." 

"  All  boys  are  rascals,  and  so  are  all  men,"  again  fly 
ing  off  at  his  tangent ;  "  my  name  is  Pitch  ;  I  stick  to 
what  I  say." 

"  Ah,  sir,  permit  me — when  I  behold  you  on  this  mild 
summer's  eve,  thus  eccentrically  clothed  in  the  skins  of 
wild  beasts,  I  cannot  but  conclude  that  the  equally 
grim  and  unsuitable  habit  of  your  mind  is  likewise  but 
an  eccentric  assumption,  having  no  basis  in  your  genuine 
soul,  no  more  than  in  nature  herself." 

"  Well,  really,  now — really,"  fidgeted  the  bachelor, 
not  unaffected  in  his  conscience  by  these  benign  person 
alities,  "  really,  really,  now,  I  don't  know  but  that  I 
may  have  been  a  little  bit  too  hard  upon  those  five  and 
thirty  boys  of  mine." 

"  Glad  to  find  you  a  little  softening,  sir.  Who  knows 
now,  but  that  flexile  gracefulness,  however  questionable 
at  the  time  of  that  thirtieth  boy  of  yours,  might  have 
been  the  silky  husk  of  the  most  solid  qualities  of  maturi 
ty.  It  might  have  been  with  him  as  with  the  ear  of  the 
Indian  corn." 


IN      THE      POLITE      SPIRIT,      ETC.  197 

u  Yes,  yes,  yes,"  excitedly  cried  the  bachelor,  as  the 
light  of  this  new  illustration  broke  in,  "  yes,  yes  ;  and 
now  that  I  think  of  it,  how  often  I've  sadly  watched  my 
Indian  corn  in  May,  wondering  whether  such  sickly, 
half-eaten  sprouts,  could  ever  thrive  up  into  the  stiff, 
stately  spear  of  August." 

"A  most  admirable  reflection,  sir,  and  you  have  only, 
according  to  the  analogical  theory  first  started  by  our  of 
fice,  to  apply  it  to  that  thirtieth  boy  in  question,  and  see 
the  result.  Had  you  but  kept  that  thirtieth  boy — been 
patient  with  his  sickly  virtues,  cultivated  them,  hoed 
round  them,  why  what  a  glorious  guerdon  would  have 
been  yours,  when  at  last  you  should  have  had  a  St.  Au 
gustine  for  an  ostler." 

"  Really,  really — well,  I  am  glad  I  didn't  send  him  to 
jail,  as  at  first  I  intended." 

"  Oh  that  would  have  been  too  bad.  Grant  he  was 
vicious.  The  petty  vices  of  boys  are  like  the  innocent 
kicks  of  colts,  as  yet  imperfectly  broken.  Some  boys 
know  not  virtue  only  for  the  same  reason  they  know 
not  French ;  it  was  never  taught  them.  Established  upon 
the  basis  of  parental  charity,  juvenile  asylums  exist  by 
law  for  the  benefit  of  lads  convicted  of  acts  which,  in 
adults,  would  have  received  other  requital.  Why  ?  Be 
cause,  do  what  they  will,  society,  like  our  office,  at  bot 
tom  has  a  Christian  confidence  in  boys.  And  all  this  we 
say  to  our  patrons." 

"  Your  patrons,  sir,  seem  your  marines  to  whom  you 
may  say  anything,"  said  the  other,  relapsing.  "  Why 
do  knowing  employers  shun  youths  from  asylums, 


198  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

though  offered  them  at  the  smallest  wages  ?  I'll  none 
of  your  reformado  boys." 

"  Such  a  boy,  respected  sir,  I  would  not  get  for  you, 
but  a  boy  that  never  needed  reform.  Do  not  smile,  for 
as  whooping-cough  and  measles  are  juvenile  diseases, 
and  yet  some  juveniles  never  have  them,  so  are  there 
boys  equally  free  from  juvenile  vices.  True,  for  the 
best  of  boys'  measles  may  be  contagious,  and  evil  com 
munications  corrupt  good  manners  ;  but  a  boy  with  a 
sound  mind  in  a  sound  body — such  is  the  boy  I  would 
get  you.  If  hitherto,  sir,  you  have  struck  upon  a  pecu 
liarly  bad  vein  of  boys,  so  much  the  more  hope  now  of 
your  hitting  a  good  one." 

"  That  sounds  a  kind  of  reasonable,  as  it  were — a 
little  so,  really.  In  fact,  though  you  have  said  a  great 
many  foolish  things,  very  foolish  and  absurd  things,  yet, 
upon  the  whole,  your  conversation  has  been  such  as 
might  almost  lead  one  less  distrustful  than  I  to  repose  a 
certain  conditional  confidence  in  you,  I  had  almost  added 
in  your  office,  also.  Now,  for  the  humor  of  it,  supposing 
that  even  I,  I  myself,  really  had  this  sort  of  conditional 
confidence,  though  but  a  grain,  what  sort  of  a  boy,  in 
sober  fact,  could  you  send  me  ?  And  what  would  be 
your  fee?" 

"  Conducted,"  replied  the  other  somewhat  loftily, 
rising  now  in  eloquence  as  his  proselyte,  for  all  his  pre 
tenses,  sunk  in  conviction,  "  conducted  upon  principles 
involving  care,  learning,  and  labor,  exceeding  what  is 
usual  in  kindred  institutions,  the  Philosophical  Intelli 
gence  Office  is  forced  to  charges  somewhat  higher  than 


IN   THE   POLITE   SPIRIT,   ETC.      199 

customary.  Briefly,  our  fee  is  three  dollars  in  advance. 
As  for  the  boy,  by  a  lucky  chance,  I  have  a  very  prom 
ising  little  fellow  now  in  my  eye — a  very  likely  little 
fellow,  indeed." 

44  Honest?" 

"  As  the  day  is  long.  Might  trust  him  with  untold 
millions.  Such,  at  least,  were  the  marginal  observations 
on  the  phrenological  chart  of  his  head,  submitted  to  me 
by  the  mother." 

"How  old?" 

"  Just  fifteen." 

"Tall?     Stout?" 

"  Uncommonly  so,  for  his  age,  his  mother  remarked." 

"  Industrious  ?" 

"  The  busy  bee." 

The  bachelor  fell  into  a  troubled  reverie.  At  last, 
with  much  hesitancy,  he  spoke  : 

"  Do  you  think  now,  candidly,  that — I  say  candidly 
— candidly — could  I  have  some  small,  limited — some 
faint,  conditional  degree  of  confidence  in  that  boy? 
Candidly,  now?" 

"  Candidly,  you  could." 

"  A  sound  boy?     A  good  boy  ?" 

"  Never  knew  one  more  so." 

The  bachelor  fell  into  another  irresolute  reverie ; 
then  said :  "  Well,  now,  you  have  suggested  some 
rather  new  views  of  boys,  and  men,  too.  Upon  those 
views  in  the  concrete  I  at  present  decline  to  determine. 
Nevertheless,  for  the  sake  purely  of  a  scientific  experi 
ment,  I  will  try  that  boy.  I  don't  think  him  an  angel, 


200  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

mind.  No,  no.  But  I'll  try  him.  There  are  my  three 
dollars,  and  here  is  my  address.  Send  him  along  this 
day  two  weeks.  Hold,  you  will  be  wanting  the  money 
for  his  passage.  There,"  handing  it  somewhat  reluc 
tantly. 

"  Ah,  thank  you.  I  had  forgotten  his  passage  ;"  then, 
altering  in  manner,  and  gravely  holding  the  bills,  con 
tinued  :  "  Respected  sir,  never  willingly  do  I  handle 
money  not  with  perfect  willingness,  nay,  with  a  certain 
alacrity,  paid.  Either  tell  me  that  you  have  a  perfect 
and  unquestioning  confidence  in  me  (nevermind  the  boy 
now)  or  permit  me  respectfully  to  return  these  bills." 

"  Put  'em  up,  put  'em  up  !" 

"  Thank  you.  Confidence  is  the  indispensable  basis 
of  all  sorts  of  business  transactions.  Without  it,  com 
merce  between  man  and  man,  as  between  country  and 
country,,  would,  like  a  watch,  run  down  and  stop.  And 
now,  supposing  that  against  present  expectation  the  lad 
should,  after  all,  evince  some  little  undesirable  trait,  do 
not,  respected  sir,  rashly  dismiss  him.  Have  but  pa 
tience,  have  but  confidence.  Those  transient  vices  will, 
ere  long,  fall  out,  and  be  replaced  by  the  sound,  firm, 
even  and  permanent  virtues.  Ah,"  glancing  shoreward, 
towards  a  grotesquely-shaped  bluff,  "  there's  the  Devil's 
Joke,  as  they  call  it ;  the  bell  for  landing  will  shortly 
ring.  I  must  go  look  up  the  cook  I  brought  for  the  inn 
keeper  at  Cairo." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

IN  WHICH  THE  POWERFUL  EFFECT  OF  NATURAL  SCENERY  IS  EVINCED 
IX  THE  CASE  OF  THE  MISSOURIAN,  WHO,  IN  VIEW  OF  THE  REGION  ROUND 
ABOUT  CAIRO,  HAS  A  RETURN  OF  HIS  CHILLY  FIT. 

AT  Cairo,  the  old  established  firm  of  Fever  &  Ague  is 
still  settling  up  its  unfinished  business ;  that  Creole 
grave-digger,  Yellow  Jack — his  hand  at  the  mattock  and 
spade  has  not  lost  its  cunning ;  while  Don  Saturninus 
Typhus  taking  his  constitutional  with  Death,  Calvin  Ed- 
son  and  three  undertakers,  in  the  morass,  snuffs  up  the 
mephitic  breeze  with  zest. 

In  the  dank  twilight,  fanned  with  mosquitoes,  and 
sparkling  with  fire-flies,  the  boat  now  lies  before  Cairo. 
She  has  landed  certain  passengers,  and  tarries  for  the 
coming  of  expected  ones.  Leaning  over  the  rail  on  the 
inshore  side,  the  Missourian  eyes  through  the  dubious 
medium  that  swampy  and  squalid  domain ;  and  over  it 
audibly  mumbles  his  cynical  mind  to  himself,  as  Ape- 
mantus'  dog  may  have  mumbled  his  bone.  He  bethinks 
him  that  the  man  with  the  brass-plate  was  to  land  on 
this  villainous  bank,  and  for  that  cause,  if  no  other,  be 
gins  to  suspect  him.  Like  one  beginning  to  rouse  him 
self  from  a  dose  of  chloroform  treacherously  given,  he 
9* 


202  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

half  divines,  too,  that  he,  the  philosopher,  had  unwitting 
ly  been  betrayed  into  being  an  unphilosophical  dupe. 
To  what  vicissitudes  of  light  and  shade  is  man  subject! 
He  ponders  the  mystery  of  human  subjectivity  in  gene 
ral.  He  thinks  he  perceives  with  Crossbones,  his  favor 
ite  author,  that,  as  one  may  wake  up  well  in  the  morning, 
very  well,  indeed,  and  brisk  as  a  buck,  I  thank  you,  but 
ere  bed-time  get  under  the  weather,  there  is  no  telling 
how — so  one  may  wake  up  wise,  and  slow  of  assent, 
very  wise  and  very  slow,  I  assure  you,  and  for  all  that, 
before  night,  by  like  trick  in  the  atmosphere,  be  left  in 
the  lurch  a  ninny.  Health  and  wisdom  equally  precious, 
and  equally  little  as  unfluctuating  possessions  to  be  re 
lied  on. 

But  where  was  slipped  in  the  entering  wedge  ?  Philo 
sophy,  knowledge,  experience — were  those  trusty  knights 
of  the  castle  recreant  ?  No,  but  unbeknown  to  them,  the 
enemy  stole  on  the  castle's  south  side,  its  genial  one, 
where  Suspicion,  the  warder,  parleyed.  In  fine,  his  too 
indulgent,  too  artless  and  companionable  nature  betrayed 
him.  Admonished  by  which,  he  thinks  he  must  be  a 
little  splenetic  in  his  intercourse  henceforth. 

He  revolves  the  crafty  process  of  sociable  chat,  by 
which,  as  he  fancies,  the  man  with  the  brass-plate 
wormed  into  him,  and  made  such  a  fool  of  him  as  in 
sensibly  to  persuade  him  to  waive,  in  his  exceptional 
case,  that  general  law  of  distrust  systematically  applied 
to  the  race.  He  revolves,  but  cannot  comprehend,  the 
operation,  still  less  the  operator.  Was  the  man  a 
trickster,  it  must  be  more  for  the  love  than  the  lucre. 


RETURN      OF      CHILLY      FIT.  203 

Two  or  three  dirty  dollars  the  motive  to  so  many  nice 
wiles?  And  yet  how  full  of  mean  needs  his  seeming. 
Before  his  mental  vision  the  person  of  that  threadbare 
Talleyrand,  that  impoverished  Machiavelli,  that  seedy 
Rosicrucian — for  something  of  all  these  he  vaguely  deems 
him — passes  now  in  puzzled  review.  Fain,  in  his  dis 
favor,  would  he  make  out  a  logical  case.  The  doctrine 
of  analogies  recurs.  Fallacious  enough  doctrine  when 
wielded  against  one's  prejudices,  but  in  corroboration  of 
cherished  suspicions  not  without  likelihood.  Analogi 
cally,  he  couples  the  slanting  cut  of  the  equivocator's 
coat-tails  with  the  sinister  cast  in  his  eye ;  he  weighs 
slyboot's  sleek  speech  in  the  light  imparted  by  the  ob 
lique  import  of  the  smooth  slope  of  his  worn  boot-heels  ; 
the  insiuuator's  undulating  flunkyisms  dovetail  into 
those  of  the  flunky  beast  that  windeth  his  way  on  his 
belly. 

From  these  uncordial  reveries  he  is  roused  by  a  cordial 
slap  on  the  shoulder,  accompanied  by  a  spicy  volume  of 
tobacco-smoke,  out  of  which  came  a  voice,  sweet  as  a 
seraph's  : 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  my  fine  fellow." 


CHAPTER     XXIV. 

A  PHILANTHROPIST  UNDERTAKES   TO   CONVERT   A   MISANTHROPE,  BUT  DOES 
NOT   GET    BEYOND   CONFUTING  HIM. 

"HANDS  off!"  cried  the  bachelor,  involuntarily  cover 
ing  dejection  with  moroseness. 

"Hands  off?  that  sort  of  label  won't  do  in  our  Fair. 
"Whoever  in  our  Fair  has  fine  feelings  loves  to  feel  the 
nap  of  fine  cloth,  especially  when  a  fine  fellow  wears 
it." 

"  And  who  of  my  fine-fellow  species  may  you  be  ? 
From  the  Brazils,  ain't  you  ?  Toucan  fowl.  Fine  feathers 
on  foul  meat." 

This  ungentle  mention  of  the  toucan  was  not  improb 
ably  suggested  by  the  parti-hued,  and  rather  plumagy 
aspect  of  the  stranger,  no  bigot  it  would  seem,  but  a 
liberalist,  in  dress,  and  whose  wardrobe,  almost  anywhere 
than  on  the  liberal  Mississippi,  used  to  all  sorts  of  fan 
tastic  informalities,  might,  even  to  observers  less  critical 
than  the  bachelor,  have  looked,  if  anything,  a  little  out 
of  the  common ;  but  not  more  so  perhaps,  than,  con 
sidering  the  bear  and  raccoon  costume,  the  bachelor's 
own  appearance.  In  short,  the  stranger  sported  a  vest 
ure  barred  with  various  hues,  that  of  the  cochineal 


PHILANTHROPIST      AND      MISANTHROPE.     205 

predominating,  in  style  participating  of  a  Highland 
plaid,  Emir's  robe,  and  French  blouse ;  from  its  plaited 
sort  of  front  peeped  glimpses  of  a  flowered  regatta-shirt, 
while,  for  the  rest,  white  trowsers  of  ample  duck  flowed 
over  maroon-colored  slippers,  and  a  jaunty  smoking-cap 
of  regal  purple  crowned  him  off  at  top  ;  king  of  traveled 
good-fellows,  evidently.  Grotesque  as  all  was,  nothing 
looked  stiff  or  unused  ;  all  showed  signs  of  easy  service, 
the  least  wonted  thing  setting  like  a  wonted  glove. 
That  genial  hand,  which  had  just  been  laid  on  the  un- 
genial  shoulder,  was  now  carelessly  thrust  down  before 
him,  sailor-fashion,  into  a  sort  of  Indian  belt,  confining 
the  redundant  vesture  ;  the  other  held,  by  its  long  bright 
cherry-stem,  a  Nuremburgh  pipe  in  blast,  its  great  porce 
lain  bowl  painted  in  miniature  with  linked  crests  and 
arms  of  interlinked  nations — a  florid  show.  As  by 
subtle  saturations  of  its  mellowing  essence  the  tobacco 
had  ripened  the  bowl,  so  it  looked  as  if  something  similar 
of  the  interior  spirit  came  rosily  out  on  the  cheek.  But 
rosy  pipe-bowl,  or  rosy  countenance,  all  was  lost  on 
that  unrosy  man,  the  bachelor,  who,  waiting  a  moment 
till  the  commotion,  caused  by  the  boat's  renewed  pro 
gress,  had  a  little  abated,  thus  continued  : 

"  Hark  ye,"  jeeringly  eying  the  cap  and  belt,  u  did 
you  ever  see  Signor  Marzetti  in  the  African  panto 
mime?" 

"  No  ; — good  performer  ?" 

"  Excellent ;  plays  the  intelligent  ape  till  he  seems  it. 
With  such  naturalness  can  a  being  endowed  with  an 
immortal  spirit  enter  into  that  of  a  monkey.  But 


206  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

where's  your  tail?  In  the  pantomime,  Marzetti,  no 
hypocrite  in  his  monkery,  prides  himself  on  that." 

The  stranger,  now  at  rest,  sideways  and  genially,  on 
one  hip,  his  right  leg  cavalierly  crossed  before  the  other, 
the  toe  of  his  vertical  slipper  pointed  easily  down  on  the 
deck,  whiffed  out  a  long,  leisurely  sort  of  indifferent  and 
charitable  puff,  betokening  him  more  or  less  of  the  ma 
ture  man  of  the  world,  a  character  which,  like  its  oppo 
site,  the  sincere  Christian's,  is  not  always  swift  to  take 
offense  ;  and  then,  drawing  near,  still  smoking,  again 
laid  his  hand,  this  time  with  mild  impressiveness,  on  the 
ursine  shoulder,  and  not  unamiably  said :  "  That  in  your 
address  there  is  a  sufficiency  of  the  fordter  in  re  few  un 
biased  observers  will  question ;  but  that  this  is  duly 
attempered  with  the  suaviter  in  modo  may  admit,  I  think, 
of  an  honest  doubt.  My  dear  fellow,"  beaming  his  eyes 
full  upon  him,  "what  injury  have  I  done  you,  that 
you  should  receive  my  greeting  with  a  curtailed  civil 
ity  ?" 

"  Off  hands  ;"  once  more  shaking  the  friendly  member 
from  him.  "  Who  in  the  name  of  the  great  chimpanzee, 
in  whose  likeness,  you,  Marzetti,  and  the  other  chatter 
ers  are  made,  who  in  thunder  are  you?" 

**  A  cosmopolitan,  a  catholic  man;  who,  being  such, 
ties  himself  to  no  narrow  tailor  or  teacher,  but  federates, 
in  heart  as  in  costume,  something  of  the  various  gallan 
tries  of  men  under  various  suns.  Oh,  one  roams  not 
over  the  gallant  globe  in  vain.  Bred  by  it,  is  a  fraternal 
and  fusing  feeling.  No  man  is  a  stranger.  You  accost 
anybody.  Warm  and  confiding,  you  wait  not  for  meas- 


PHILANTHROPIST      AND      MISANTHROPE.      207 

ured  advances.  And  though,  indeed,  mine,  in  this  in 
stance,  have  met  with  no  very  hilarious  encouragement, 
yet  the  principle  of  a  true  citizen  of  the  world  is  still  to 
return  good  for  ill. — My  dear  fellow,  tell  me  how  I  can 
serve  you." 

"By  dispatching  yourself,  Mr.  Popinjay-of-the- world, 
into  the  heart  of  the  Lunar  Mountains.  You  are  an 
other  of  them.  Out  of  my  sight !" 

"  Is  the  sight  of  humanity  so  very  disagreeable  to  you 
then  ?  Ah,  I  may  be  foolish,  but  for  my  part,  in  all  its 
aspects,  I  love  it.  Served  up  a  la  Pole,  or  a  la  Moor,  a  la 
Ladrone,  or  a  la  Yankee,  that  good  dish,  man,  still  de 
lights  me ;  or  rather  is  man  a  wine  I  never  weary  of 
comparing  and  sipping  ;  wherefore  am  I  a  pledged  cos 
mopolitan,  a  sort  of  London-Dock-Vault  connoisseur, 
going  about  from  Teheran  to  Natchitoches,  a  taster  of 
races;  in  all  his  vintages,  smacking  my  lips  over  this  racy 
creature,  man,  continually.  But  as  there  are  teetotal 
palates  which  have  a  distaste  even  for  Amontillado,  so  I 
suppose  there  may  be  teetotal  souls  which  relish  not 
even  the  very  best  brands  of  humanity.  Excuse  me, 
but  it  just  occurs  to  me  that  you,  my  dear  fellow,  possi 
bly  lead  a  solitary  life." 

"  Solitary  ?"  starting  as  at  a  touch  of  divination. 

"  Yes  :  in  a  solitary  life  one  insensibly  contracts  oddi 
ties, — talking  to  one's  self  now." 

"  Been  eaves-dropping,  eh  ?" 

"  Why,  a  soliloquist  in  a  crowd  can  hardly  but  be 
overheard,  and  without  much  reproach  to  the  hear- 


208  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  You  are  an  eaves-dropper." 

"  Well.     Be  it  so." 

"  Confess  yourself  an  eaves-dropper?" 

"  I  confess  that  when  you  were  muttering  here  I,  pass 
ing  by,  caught  a  word  or  two,  and,  by  like  chance, 
something  previous  of  your  chat  with  the  Intelligence- 
office  man ; — a  rather  sensible  fellow,  by  the  way ; 
much  of  my  style  of  thinking ;  would,  for  his  own  sake, 
he  were  of  my  style  of  dress.  Grief  to  good  minds,  to 
see  a  man  of  superior  sense  forced  to  hide  his  light 
under  the  bushel  of  an  inferior  coat. — Well,  from  what 
little  I  heard,  I  said  to  myself,  Here  now  is  one  with  the 
unprofitable  philosophy  of  disesteem  for  man.  Which 
disease,  in  the  main,  I  have  observed — excuse  me — to 
spring  from  a  certain  lowness,  if  not  sourness,  of  spirits 
inseparable  from  sequestration.  Trust  me,  one  had  bet 
ter  mix  in,  and  do  like  others.  Sad  business,  this  hold 
ing  out  against  having  a  good  time.  Life  is  a  pic-nic  en 
costume  ;  one  must  take  a  part,  assume  a  character,  stand 
ready  in  a  sensible  way  to  play  the  fool.  To  come  in 
plain  clothes,  with  a  long  face,  as  a  wiseacre,  only  makes 
one  a  discomfort  to  himself,  and  a  blot  upon  the  scene. 
Like  your  jug  of  cold  water  among  the  wine-flasks,  it 
leaves  you  unelated  among  the  elated  ones.  No,  no. 
This  austerity  won't  do.  Let  me  tell  you  too — en  confi- 
ance — that  while  revelry  may  not  always  merge  into 
ebriety,  soberness,  in  too  deep  potations,  may  become  a 
sort  of  sottishness.  Which  sober  sottishness,  in  my 
way  of  thinking,  is  only  to  be  cured  by  beginning  at  the 
other  end  of  the  horn,  to  tipple  a  little." 


PHILANTHROPIST      AND      MISANTHROPE.      209 

"  Pray,  what  society  of  vintners  and  old  topers  are 
you  hired  to  lecture  for?" 

"  I  fear  I  did  not  give  my  meaning  clearly.  A  little 
story  may  help.  The  story  of  the  worthy  old  woman 
of  Goshen,  a  very  moral  old  woman,  who  wouldn't  let 
her  shoats  eat  fattening  apples  in  fall,  for  fear  the  fruit 
might  ferment  upon  their  brains,  and  so  make  them 
swinish.  Now,  during  a  green  Christmas,  inauspicious 
to  the  old,  this  worthy  old  woman  fell  into  a  moping 
decline,  took  to  her  bed,  no  appetite,  and  refused  to 
see  her  best  friends.  In  much  concern  her  good  man 
sent  for  the  doctor,  who,  after  seeing  the  patient  and 
putting  a  question  or  two,  beckoned  the  husband  out, 
and  said  :  '  Deacon,  do  you  want  her  cured?  'Indeed  I 
do.'  '  Go  directly,  then,  and  buy  a  jug  of  Santa  Cruz.' 
'  Santa  Cruz  ?  my  wife  drink  Santa  Cruz  ?'  '  Either  that 
or  die.'  '  But  how  much  ?'  '  As  much  as  she  can  get 
down.'  'But  she'll  get  drunk!'  'That's  the  cure.' 
Wise  men,  like  doctors,  must  be  obeyed.  Much  against 
the  grain,  the  sober  deacon  got  the  unsober  medicine, 
and,  equally  against  her  conscience,  the  poor  old  woman 
took  it;  but,  by  so  doing,  ere  long  recovered  health  and 
spirits,  famous  appetite,  and  glad  again  to  see  her 
friends  ;  and  having  by  this  experience  broken  the  ice  of 
arid  abstinence,  never  afterwards  kept  herself  a  cup  too 
low." 

This  story  had  the  effect  of  surprising  the  bachelor 
into  interest,  though  hardly  into  approval. 

"  If  I  take  your  parable  right,"  said  he,  sinking  no 
little  of  his  former  churlishness,  "the  meaning  is,  that 


210  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

one  cannot  enjoy  life  with  gusto  unless  he  renounce 
the  too-sober  view  of  life.  But  since  the  too-sober 
view  is,  doubtless,  nearer  true  than  the  too-drunken  ;  I, 
who  rate  truth,  though  cold  water,  above  untruth,  though 
Tokay,  will  stick  to  my  earthen  jug." 

"  I  see,"  slowly  spirting  upward  a  spiral  staircase  of 
lazy  smoke,  "  I  see ;  you  go  in  for  the  lofty." 

"  How  ?" 

"Oh,  nothing!  but  if  I  wasn't  afraid  of  prosing,  I 
might  tell  another  story  about  an  old  boot  in  a  pie 
man's  loft,  contracting  there  between  sun  and  oven  an 
unseemly,  dry-seasoned  curl  and  warp.  You've  seen  such 
leathery  old  garret  teers,  haven't  you  ?  Very  high,  sober, 
solitary,  philosophic,  grand,  old  boots,  indeed  ;  but  I,  for 
my  part,  wrould  rather  be  the  pieman's  trodden  slipper 
on  the  ground.  Talking  of  piemen,  humble-pie  before 
proud-cake  for  me.  This  notion  of  being  lone  and  lofty 
is  a  sad  mistake.  Men  I  hold  in  this  respect  to  be  like 
roosters ;  the  one  that  betakes  himself  to  a  lone  and 
lofty  perch  is  the  hen-pecked  one,  or  the  one  that  has 
the  pip." 

"  You  are  abusive !"  cried  the  bachelor,  evidently 
touched. 

"  Who  is  abused  ?  You,  or  the  race  ?  You  won't 
stand  by  and  see  the  human  race  abused  ?  Oh,  then, 
you  have  some  respect  for  the  human  race." 

"I  have  some  respect  for  myself"  with  a  lip  not  so 
firm  as  before.  I 

"  And  what  race  may  you  belong  to  ?  now  don't  you 
see,  my  dear  fellow,  in  what  inconsistencies  one  involves 


PHILANTHROPIST      AND      MISANTHROPE.      211 

himself  by  affecting  disesteem  for  men.  To  a  charm,  my 
little  stratagem  succeeded.  Come,  come,  think  better 
of  it,  and,  as  a  first  step  to  a  new  mind,  give  up  solitude. 
I  fear,  by  the  way,  you  have  at  some  time  been  reading 
Zimmermann,  that  old  Mr.  Megrims  of  a  Zimmermann, 
whose  book  on  Solitude  is  as  vain  as  Hume's  on  Suicide, 
as  Bacon's  on  Knowledge ;  and,  like  these,  will  betray 
him  who  seeks  to  steer  soul  and  body  by  it,  like  a  false 
religion.  All  they,  be  they  what  boasted  ones  you 
please,  who,  to  the  yearning  of  our  kind  after  a  founded 
rule  of  content,  offer  aught  not  in  the  spirit  of  fellowly 
gladness  based  on  due  confidence  in  what  is  above, 
away  with  them  for  poor  dupes,  or  still  poorer  im 
postors." 

His  manner  here  was  so  earnest  that  scarcely  any 
auditor,  perhaps,  but  would  have  been  more  or  less 
impressed  by  it,  while,  possibly,  nervous  opponents  might 
have  a  little  quailed  under  it.  Thinking  within  himself 
a  moment,  the  bachelor  replied  :  "  Had  you  experience, 
you  would  know  that  your  tippling  theory,  take  it  in 
what  sense  you  will,  is  poor  as  any  other.  And  Rabelais' s 
pro-wine  Koran  no  more  trustworthy  than  Mahomet's 
anti-wine  one." 

"  Enough,"  for  a  finality  knocking  the  ashes  from  his 
pipe,  "  we  talk  and  keep  talking,  and  still  stand  where 
we  did.  What  do  you  say  for  a  walk?  My  arm,  and 
let's  a  turn.  They  are  to  have  dancing  on  the  hurricane- 
deck  to-night.  I  shall  fling  them  off  a  Scotch  jig,  while,  to 
save  the  pieces,  you  hold  my  loose  change  ;  and  following 
that,  I  propose  that  you,  my  dear  fellow,  stack  your 


212  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

gun,  and  throw  your  bearskins  in  a  sailor's  hornpipe — I 
holding  your  watch.  What  do  you  say  ?" 

At  this  proposition  the  other  was  himself  again,  all 
raccoon. 

"Look  you,"  thumping  down  his  rifle,  "are  you 
Jeremy  Diddler  No.  3  ?" 

"  Jeremy  Diddler  ?  I  have  have  heard  of  Jeremy  the 
prophet,  and  Jeremy  Taylor  the  divine,  but  your  other 
Jeremy  is  a  gentleman  I  am  unacquainted  with." 

"  You  are  his  confidential  clerk,  ain't  you  ?" 

"  Whose,  pray  ?  Not  that  I  think  myself  unworthy  of 
being  confided  in,  but  I  don't  understand." 

"  You  are  another  of  them.  Somehow  I  meet  with 
the  most  extraordinary  metaphysical  scamps  to-day. 
Sort  of  visitation  of  them.  And  yet  that  herb-doctor 
Diddler  somehow  takes  off  the  raw  edge  of  the  Diddlers 
that  come  after  him." 

"  Herb-doctor  ?  who  is  he  ?" 

"  Like  you — another  of  them." 

" Who?"  Then  drawing  near,  as  if  for  a  good  long 
explanatory  chat,  his  left  hand  spread,  and  his  pipe-stem 
coming  crosswise  down  upon  it  like  a  ferule,  "You 
think  amiss  of  me.  Now  to  undeceive  you,  I  will  just 
enter  into  a  little  argument  and — " 

"  No  you  don't.  No  more  little  arguments  for  me. 
Had  too  many  little  arguments  to-day." 

"  But  put  a  case.  Can  you  deny — I  dare  you  to 
deny — that  the  man  leading  a  solitary  life  is  peculiarly 
exposed  to  the  sorriest  misconceptions  touching  stran- 
gers?" 


PHILANTHROPIST      AND      MISANTHROPE.      213 

"  Yes,  I  do  deny  it,"  again,  in  his  impulsiveness,  snap 
ping  at  the  controversial  bait,  "  and  I  will  confute 
you  there  in  a  trice.  Look,  you — " 

"  Now,  now,  now,  my  dear  fellow,"  thrusting  out 
both  vertical  palms  for  double  shields,  "  you  crowd  me 
too  hard.  You  don't  give  one  a  chance.  Say  what  you 
will,  to  shun  a  social  proposition  like  mine,  to  shun 
society  in  any  way,  evinces  a  churlish  nature — cold,  love 
less  ;  as,  to  embrace  it,  shows  one  warm  and  friendly, 
in  fact,  sunshiny." 

Here  the  other,  all  agog  again,  in  his  perverse  way, 
launched  forth  into  the  unkindest  references  to  deaf  old 
worldlings  keeping  in  the  deafening  world ;  and  gouty 
gluttons  limping  to  their  gouty  gormandizings ;  and 
corseted  coquets  clasping  their  corseted  cavaliers  in  the 
waltz,  all  for  disinterested  society's  sake ;  and  thousands, 
bankrupt  through  lavishness,  ruining  themselves  out  of 
pure  love  of  the  sweet  company  of  man — no  envies, 
rivalries,  or  other  unhandsome  motive  to  it. 

"Ah,  now,"  deprecating  with  his  pipe,  "irony  is  so 
unjust;  never  could  abide  irony;  something  Satanic  about 
irony.  God  defend  me  from  Irony,  and  Satire,  his  bosom 
friend." 

"  A  right  knave's  prayer,  and  a  right  fool's,  too,"  snap- 
ing  his  rifle-lock. 

"Now  be  frank.  Own  that  was  a  little  gratuitous. 
But,  no,  no,  you  didn't  mean;  it  any  way,  I  can  make 
allowances.  Ah,  did  you  but  know  it,  how  much  plea- 
santer  to  puff  at  this  philanthropic  pipe,  than  still  to  keep 
fumbling  at  that  misanthropic  rifle.  As  for  your  world- 


214  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

lingg,  lutton,  and  coquette,  though,  doubtless;  being 
such,  they  may  have  their  little  foibles — as  who  has 
not  ? — yet  not  one  of  the  three  can  be  reproached  with 
that  awful  sin  of  shunning  society ;  awful  I  call  it,  for 
not  seldom  it  presupposes  a  still  darker  thing  than 
itself — remorse." 

"  Remorse  drives  man  away  from  man?  How  came 
your  fellow-creature,  Cain,  after  the  first  murder,  to  go 
and  build  the  first  city?  And  why  is  it  that  the 
modern  Cain  dreads  nothing  so  much  as  solitary  confine 
ment  ? 

"My  dear  fellow,  you  get  excited.  Say  what  you 
will,  I  for  one  must  have  my  fellow-creatures  round  me. 
Thick,  too — I  must  have  them  thick." 

"  The  pick-pocket,  too,  loves  to  have  his  fellow-creat 
ures  round  him.  Tut,  man  !  no  one  goes  into  the  crowd 
but  for  his  end  ;  and  the  end  of  too  many  is  the  same  as 
the  pick-pocket's — a  purse." 

"  Now,  my  dear  fellow,  how  can  you  have  the  consci 
ence  to  say  that,  when  it  is  as  much  according  to 
natural  law  that  men  are  social  as  sheep  gregarious. 
But  grant  that,  in  being  social,  each  man  has  his  end, 
do  you,  upon  the  strength  of  that,  do  you  yourself,  I 
say,  mix  with  man,  now,  immediately,  and  be  your 
end  a  more  genial  philosophy.  Come,  let's  take  a 
turn." 

Again  he  offered  his  fraternal  arm  ;  but  the  bachelor 
once  more  flung  it  off,  and,  raising  his  rifle  in  energetic 
invocation,  cried :  "  Now  the  high-constable  catch  and 
confound  all  knaves  in  towns  and  rats  in  grain-bins,  and 


PHIL  AX  THRO  PI  ST      AND      MISANTHROPE.     215 

if  in  this  boat,  which  is  a  human  grain-bin  for  the  time, 
any  sly,  smooth,  philandering  rat  be  dodging  now,  pin 
him,  thou  high  rat-catcher,  against  this  rail." 

"  A  noble  burst !  shows  you  at  heart  a  trump.  And 
when  a  card's  that,  little  matters  it  whether  it  be  spade 
or  diamond.  You  are  good  wine  that,  to  be  still  better, 
only  needs  a  shaking  up.  Come,  let's  agree  that  we'll 
to  New  Orleans,  and  there  embark  for  London — I  stay 
ing  with  my  friends  nigh  Primrose-hill,  and  you  putting 
up  at  the  Piazza,  Covent  Garden — Piazza,  Coven t  Gar 
den  ;  for  tell  me — since  you  will  not  be  a  disciple 
to  the  full — tell  me,  was  not  that  humor,  of  Diogenes, 
which  led  him  to  live,  a  merry-andrew,  in  the  flower- 
market,  better  than  that  of  the  less  wise  Athenian, 
which  made  him  a  skulking  scare-crow  in  pine-barrens  ? 
An  injudicious  gentleman,  Lord  Timon." 

"  Your  hand  !"  seizing  it. 

"  Bless  me,  how  cordial  a  squeeze.  It  is  agreed  we 
shall  be  brothers,  then  ?" 

"  As  much  so  as  a  brace  of  misanthropes  can  be," 
with  another  and  terrific  squeeze.  "  I  had  thought  that 
the  moderns  had  degenerated  beneath  the  capacity  of 
misanthropy.  Rejoiced,  though  but  in  one  instance, 
and  that  disguised,  to  be  undeceived." 

The  other  stared  in  blank  amaze. 

"  Won't  do.  You  are  Diogenes,  Diogenes  in  disguise. 
I  say — Diogenes  masquerading  as  a  cosmopolitan." 

With  ruefully  altered  mien,  the  stranger  still  stood  mute 
awhile.  At  length,  in  a  pained  tone,  spoke  :  "  How  hard 
the  lot  of  that  pleader  who,  in  his  zeal  conceding  too 


216  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

much,  is  taken  to  belong  to  a  side  which  he  but  labors, 
however  ineffectually,  to  convert !"  Then  with  an 
other  change  of  air :  "  To  you,  an  Ishmael,  disguising 
in  sportiveness  my  intent,  I  came  ambassador  from  the 
human  race,  charged  with  the  assurance  that  for  your 
mislike  they  bore  no  answering  grudge,  but  sought  to 
conciliate  accord  between  you  and  them.  Yet  you  take 
me  not  for  the  honest  envoy,  but  I  know  not  what  sort 
of  unheard-of  spy.  Sir,"  he  less  lowly  added,  "  this 
mistaking  of  your  man  should  teach  you  how  you  may 
mistake  all  men.  For  God's  sake,"  laying  both  hands 
upon  him,  "  get  you  confidence.  See  how  distrust  has 
duped  you.  I,  Diogenes  ?  I  he  who,  going  a  step 
beyond  misanthropy,  was  less  a  man-hater  than  a  man- 
hooter  ?  Better  were  I  stark  and  stiff!" 

With  which  the  philanthropist  moved  away  less 
lightsome  than  he  had  come,  leaving  the  discomfited 
misanthrope  to  the  solitude  he  held  so  sapient. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE    COSMOPOLITAN   MAKES   AN   ACQUAINTANCE. 

IN  the  act  of  retiring,  the  cosmopolitan  was  met  by  a 
passenger,  who.  with  the  bluff  abord  of  the  West,  thus 
addressed  him,  though  a  stranger. 

"  Queer  'coon,  your  friend.  Had  a  little  skrimmage 
with  him  myself.  Rather  entertaining  old  'coon,  if  he 
wasn't  so  deuced  analytical.  Reminded  me  somehow  of 
what  I've  heard  about  Colonel  John  Moredock,  of  Illi 
nois,  only  your  friend  ain't  quite  so  good  a  fellow  at 
bottom,  I  should  think." 

It  was  in  the  semicircular  porch  of  a  cabin,  opening 
a  recess  from  the  deck,  lit  by  a  zoned  lamp  swung  over 
head,  and  sending  its  light  vertically  down,  like  the  sun 
at  noon.  Beneath  the  lamp  stood  the  speaker,  affording 
to  any  one  disposed  to  it  no  unfavorable  chance  for 
scrutiny  ;  but  the  glance  now  resting  on  him  betrayed 
no  such  rudeness. 

A  man  neither  tall  nor  stout,  neither  short  nor  gaunt; 
but  with  a  body  fitted,  as  by  measure,  to  the  service  of 
his  mind.     For  the  rest,  one  less  favored  perhaps  in  his 
features  than  his  clothes;  and  of  these  the  beauty  may. 
have  been  less  in  the  fit  than  the  cut ;  to  say  nothing  of 


10 


! 


218  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

the  fineness  of  the  nap,  seeming  out  of  keeping  with 
something  the  reverse  of  fine  in  the  skin ;  and  the  un- 
suitableness  of  a  violet  vest,  sending  up  sunset  hues  to 
a  countenance  betokening  a  kind  of  bilious  habit. 

But,  upon  the  whole,  it  could  not  be  fairly  said  that 
his  appearance  was  unprepossessing ;  indeed,  to  the  con 
genial,  it  would  have  been  doubtless  not  uncongenial; 
while  to  others,  it  could  not  fail  to  be  at  least  curiously 
interesting,  from  the  warm  air  of  florid  cordiality,  con 
trasting  itself  with  one  knows  not  what  kind  of  aguish 
sallowness  of  saving  discretion  lurking  behind  it.  Un 
gracious  critics  might  have  thought  that  the  manner 
flushed  the  man,  something  in  the  same  fictitious  way 
that  the  vest  flushed  the  cheek.  And  though  his  teeth 
were  singularly  good,  those  same  ungracious  ones  might 
have  hinted  that  they  were  too  good  to  be  true ;  or  ra 
ther,  were  not  so  good  as  they  might  be ;  since  the  best 
false  tjpth  are  those  made  with  at  least  two  or  three 
blennWes,  the  more  to  look  like  life.  But  fortunately 
for  better  constructions,  no  such  critics  had  the  stranger 
now  in  eye ;  only  the  cosmopolitan,  who,  after,  in  the 
first  place,  acknowledging  his  advances  with  a  mute  sa 
lute — in  which  acknowledgment,  if  there  seemed  less  of 
spirit  than  in  his  way  of  accosting  the  Missourian,  it  was 
probably  because  of  the  saddening  sequel  of  that  late  in 
terview — thus  now  replied:  "  Colonel  John  Moredock," 
repeating,  the  words  abstractedly  ;  "  that  surname  recalls 
reminiscences.  Pray,"  with  enlivenecKair,  "  was  he 
anyway  connected  with  the  Moredocks  of  Moredock 
Hall,  Northamptonshire,  England?" 


AN      ACQUAINTANCE.  219 

"I  know  no  more  of  the  Moredocks  of  Moredock  Hall 
than  of  the  Burdocks  of  Burdock  Hut,"  returned  the 
other,  with  the  air  somehow  of  one  whose  fortunes  had 
been  of  his  own  making  ;  "all  I  know  is,  that  the  late 
Colonel  John  Moredock  was  a  famous  one  in  his  time  ; 
eye  like Lochiel's ;  finger  like  a  trigger;  nerve  like  a  cata 
mount's  ;  and  with  but  two  little  oddities — seldom  stir 
red  without  his  rifle,  and  hated  Indians  like  snakes." 

"Your  Moredock,  then,  would  seem  a  Moredock  of 
Misanthrope  Hall — the  Woods.  No  very  sleek  creature, 
the  colonel,  I  fancy." 

"  Sleek  or  not,  he  was  no  uncombed  one,  but  silky 
bearded  and  curly  headed,  and  to  all  but  Indians  juicy 
as  a  peach.  But  Indians — how  the  late  Colonel  John 
Moredock,  Indian-hater  of  Illinois,  did  hate  Indians,  to 
be  sure !" 

"  Never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  Hate  Indians  ?  Why 
should  he  or  anybody  else  hate  Indians?  I  admire 
Indians.  Indians  I  have  always  heard  to  be  one  of  the 
finest  of  the  primitive  races,  possessed  of  many  heroic 
virtues.  Some  noble  women,  too.  When  I  think  of 
Pocahontas,  I  am  ready  to  love  Indians.  Then  there's 
Massasoit,  and  Philip  of  Mount  Hope,  and  Tecumseh, 
and  Red-Jacket,  and  Logan — all  heroes  ;  and  there's  the 
Five  Nations,  and  Araucanians — federations  and  commu 
nities  of  heroes.  God  bless  me ;  hate  Indians  ?  Surely 
the  late  Colonel  John  Moredock  must  have  wandered  in, 
his  mind." 

"  Wandered  in  the  woods  considerably,  but  never 
wandered  elsewhere,  that  I  ever  heard." 


220  THE     CONFIDENCE -MAN. 

"Are  you  in  earnest?  Was  there  ever  one  who  so 
made  it  his  particular  mission  to  hate  Indians  that,  to 
designate  him,  a  special  word  has  been  coined — Indian- 
hater  ?" 

"  Even  so." 

"  Dear  me,  you  take  it  very  calmly. — But  really,  I 
would  like  to  know  something  about  this  Indian-hating. 
I  can  hardly  believe  such  a  thing  to  be.  Could  you 
favor  me  with  a  little  history  of  the  extraordinary  man 
you  mentioned?" 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  and  immediately  stepping  from 
the  porch,  gestured  the  cosmopolitan  to  a  settee  near 
by,  on  deck.  "  There,  sir,  sit  you  there,  and  I  will  sit 
here  beside  you — you  desire  to  hear  of  Colonel  John 
Moredock.  Well,  a  day  in  my  boyhood  is  marked  with 
a  white  stone — the  day  I  saw  the  colonel's  rifle,  pow 
der-horn  attached,  hanging  in  a  cabin  on  the  West  bank 
of  the  Wabash  river.  I  was  going  westward  a  long  jour 
ney  through  the  wilderness  with  my  father.  It  was 
nigh  noon,  and  we  had  stopped  at  the  cabin  to  unsaddle 
and  bait.  The  man  at  the  cabin  pointed  out  the  rifle,  and 
told  whose  it  was,  adding  that  the  colonel  was  that 
moment  sleeping  on  wolf-skins  in  the  corn-loft  above, 
so  we  must  not  talk  very  loud,  for  the  colonel  had  been 
out  all  night  hunting  (Indians,  mind),  and  it  would  be 
cruel  to  disturb  his  sleep.  Curious  'to  see  one  so  famous, 
we  waited  two  hours  over,  in  hopes  he  would  come 
forth  ;  but  he  did  not.  So,  it  being  necessary  to  get  to 
the  next  cabin  before  nightfall,  we  had  at  last  to  ride  off 
without  the  wished- for  satisfaction.  Though,  to  tell  the 


AN      ACQUAINTANCE. 

truth,  I,  for  one,  did  not  go  away  entirely  ungratified, 
for,  while  my  father  was  watering  the  horses,  I  slipped 
back  into  the  cabin,  and  stepping  a  round  or  two  up  the 
ladder,  pushed  my  head  through  the  trap,  and  peered 
about.  Not  much  light  in  the  loft ;  but  off,  in  the  fur 
ther  corner,  I  saw  what  I  took  to  be  the  wolf-skins,  and 
on  them  a  bundle  of  something,  like  a  drift  of  leaves ; 
and  at  one  end,  what  seemed  a  moss-ball ;  and  over  it, 
deer-antlers  branched ;  and  close  by,  a  small  squirrel 
sprang  out  from  a  maple-bowl  of  nuts,  brushed  the  moss- 
ball  with  his  tail,  through  a  hole,  and  vanished,  squeak 
ing.  That  bit  of  woodland  scene  was  all  I  saw.  No 
Colonel  Moredock  there,  unless  that  moss-ball  was  his 
curly  head,  seen  in  the  back  view.  I  would  have  gone 
clear  up,  but  the  man  below  had  warned  me,  that 
though,  from  his  camping  habits,  the  colonel  could  sleep 
through  thunder,  he  was  for  the  same  cause  amazing 
quick  to  waken  at  the  sound  of  footsteps,  however  soft, 
and  especially  if  human." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  the  other,  softly  laying  his  hand 
on  the  narrator's  wrist,  "  but  I  fear  the  colonel  was  of 
a  distrustful  nature — little  or  no  confidence.  He  was  a 
little  suspicious-minded,  wasn't  he  ?" 

"Not  a  bit.  Knew  too  much.  Suspected  nobody, 
but  was  not  ignorant  of  Indians.  Well :  though,  as 
you  may  gather,  I  never  fully  saw  the  man,  yet,  have  I, 
one  way  and  another,  heard  about  as  much  of  him  as 
any  other ;  in  particular,  have  I  heard  his  history  again 
and  again  from  my  father's  friend,  James  Hall,  the  judge, 
you  know.  In  every  company  being  called  upon  to 


222  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

give  this  history,  which  none  could  better  do,  the  judge 
at  last  fell  into  a  style  so  methodic,  you  would  have 
thought  he  spoke  less  to  mere  auditors  than  to  an  invisible 
amanuensis ;  seemed  talking  for  the  press  ;  very  impres 
sive  way  with  him  indeed.  And  I,  having  an  equally 
impressible  memory,  think  that,  upon  a  pinch,  I  can 
render  you  the  judge  upon  the  colonel  almost  word  for 
word." 

"  Do  so,  by  all  means,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  well 
pleased. 

"  Shall  I  give  you  the  judge's  philosophy,  and  all  ?" 

"  As  to  that,"  rejoined  the  other  gravely,  pausing  over 
the  pipe-bowl  he  was  filling,  "the  desirableness,  to  a 
man  of  a  certain  mind,  of  having  another  man's  philoso 
phy  given,  depends  considerably  upon  what  school  of 
philosophy  that  other  man  belongs  to.  Of  what  school 
or  system  was  the  judge,  pray  ?" 

"  Why,  though  he  knew  how  to  read  and  write,  the 
judge  never  had  much  schooling.  But,  I  should  say  he 
belonged,  if  anything,  to  the  free-school  system.  Yes,  a 
true  patriot,  the  judge  went  in  strong  for  free-schools." 

"  In  philosophy?  The  man  of  a  certain  mind,  then, 
while  respecting  the  judge's  patriotism,  and  not  blind 
to  the  judge's  capacity  for  narrative,  such  as  he  may 
prove  to  have,  might,  perhaps,  with  prudence,  waive  an 
opinion  of  the  judge's  probable  philosophy.  But  I  am 
no  rigorist ;  proceed,  I  beg  ;  his  philosophy  or  not,  as 
you  please." 

"  Well,  I  would  mostly  skip  that  part,  only,  to  begin, 
some  reconnoitering  of  the  ground  in  a  philosophical 


AN      ACQUAINTANCE.  223 

way  the  judge  always  deemed  indispensable  with  stran 
gers.  For  you  must  know  that  Indian-hating  was  no 
monopoly  of  Colonel  Moredock's;  but  a  passion,  in  one 
form  or  other,  and  to  a  degree,  greater  or  less,  largely 
shared  among  the  class  to  which  he  belonged.  And 
Indian-hating  still  exists  ;  and,  no  doubt,  will  continue 
to  exist,  so  long  as  Indians  do.  Indian-hating,  then, 
shall  be  my  first  theme,  and  Colonel  Moredock,  the  In 
dian-hater,  my  next  and  last." 

With  which  the  stranger,  settling  himself  in  his  seat, 
commenced — the  hearer  paying  marked  regard,  slowly 
smoking,  his  glance,  meanwhile,  steadfastly  abstracted 
towards  the  deck,  but  his  right  ear  so  disposed  towards 
the  speaker  that  each  word  came  through  as  little  at 
mospheric  intervention  as  possible.  To  intensify  the 
sense  of  hearing,  he  seemed  to  sink  the  sense  of  sight. 
No  complaisance  of  mere  speech  could  have  been  so 
flattering,  or  expressed  such  striking  politeness  as  this 
mute  eloquence  of  thoroughly  digesting  attention. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

CONTAINING  THE  METAPHYSICS  OF  INDIAN-HATING,  ACCORDING  TO  THE 
VIEWS  OP  ONE  EVIDENTLY  NOT  SO  PREPOSSESSED  AS  ROUSSEAU  IN 
FAVOR  OF  SAVAGES. 

"  THE  judge  always  began  in  these  words :  '  The 
backwoodsman's  hatred  of  the  Indian  has  been  a  topic 
for  some  remark.  In  the  earlier  times  of  the  frontier 
the  passion  was  thought  to  be  readily  accounted  for. 
But  Indian  rapine  having  mostly  ceased  through  regions 
where  it  once  prevailed,  the  philanthropist  is  surprised 
that  Indian-hating  has  not  in  like  degree  ceased  with  it. 
He  wonders  why  the  backwoodsman  still  regards  the 
red  man  in  much  the  same  spirit  that  a  jury  does  a 
murderer,  or  a  trapper  a  wild  cat — a  creature,  in  whose 
behalf  mercy  were  not  wisdom  ;  truce  is  vain  ;  he  must 
be  executed. 

"  'A  curious  point,'  the  judge  would  continue,  *  which 
perhaps  not  everybody,  even  upon  explanation,  may  fully 
understand  ;  while,  in  order  for  any  one  to  approach  to 
an  understanding,  it  is  necessary  for  him  to  learn,  or  if 
he  already  know,  to  bear  in  mind,  what  manner  of  man 
the  backwoodsman  is  ;  as  for  what  manner  of  man  the 
Indian  is,  many  know,  either  from  history  or  experience. 


THE    METAPHYSICS    OP    INDIAN-HATING.     225 

"  *  The  backwoodsman  is  a  lonely  man.  He  is  a  thought 
ful  man.  He  is  a  man  strong  and  unsophisticated.  Im 
pulsive,  he  is  what  some  might  call  unprincipled.  At 
any  rate,  he  is  self-willed ;  being  one  who  less  hearkens 
to  what  others  may  say  about  things,  than  looks  for 
himself,  to  see  what  are  things  themselves.  If  in  straits, 
there  are  few  to  help  ;  he  must  depend  upon  himself; 
he  must  continually  look  to  himself.  Hence  self-reli 
ance,  to  the  degree  of  standing  by  his  own  judgment, 
though  it  stand  alone.  Not  that  he  deems  himself 
infallible  ;  too  many  mistakes  in  following  trails  prove 
the  contrary  ;  but  he  thinks  that  nature  destines  such 
sagacity  as  she  has  given  him,  as  she  destines  it  to  the 
'possum.  To  these  fellow-beings  of  the  wilds  their 
untutored  sagacity  is  their  best  dependence.  If  with 
either  it  prove  faulty,  if  the  'possum's  betray  it  to  the 
trap,  or  the  backwoodsman's  mislead  him  into  ambuscade, 
there  are  consequences  to  be  undergone,  but  no  self- 
blame.  As  with  the  'possum,  instincts  prevail  with 
the  backwoodsman  over  precepts.  Like  the  'possum, 
the  backwoodsman  presents  the  spectacle  of  a  creature 
dwelling  exclusively  among  the  works  of  God,  yet 
these,  truth  must  confess,  breed  little  in  him  of  a  godly 
mind.  Small  bowing  and  scraping  is  his,  further  than 
when  with  bent  knee  he  points  his  rifle,  or  picks  its 
flint.  With  few  companions,  solitude  by  necessity  his 
lengthened  lot,  he  stands  the  trial — no  slight  one,  since, 
next  to  dying,  solitude,  rightly  borne,  is  perhaps  of  for 
titude  the  moat  rigorous  test.  But  not  merely  is  the 

backwoodsman  content  to  be  alone,  but  in  no  few  cases 
10* 


226  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

is  anxious  to  be  so.  The  sight  of  smoke  ten  miles  off  is 
provocation  to  one  more  remove  from  man,  one  step 
deeper  into  nature.  Is  it  that  he  feels  that  whatever  man 
may  be,  man  is  not  the  universe  ?  that  glory,  beauty, 
kindness,  are  not  all  engrossed  by  him  ?  that  as  the 
presence  of  man  frights  birds  away,  so,  many  bird-like 
thoughts  ?  Be  that  how  it  will,  the  backwoodsman  is 
not  without  some  fineness  to  his  nature.  Hairy  Orson  as 
he  looks,  it  may  be  with  him  as  with  the  Shetland  seal — 
beneath  the  bristles  lurks  the  fur. 

"  '  Though  held  in  a  sort  a  barbarian,  the  backwoods 
man  would  seem  to  America  what  Alexander  was  to 
Asia — captain  in  the  vanguard  of  conquering  civilization. 
Whatever  the  nation's  growing  opulence  or  power,  does 
it  not  lackey  his  heels  ?  Pathfinder,  provider  of  secur 
ity  to  those  who  come  after  him,  for  himself  he  asks 
nothing  but  hardship.  Worthy  to  be  compared  with 
Moses  in  the  Exodus,  or  the  Emperor  Julian  in  Gaul, 
who  on  foot,  and  bare-browed,  at  the  head  of  covered 
or  mounted  legions,  marched  so  through  the  elements, 
day  after  day.  The  tide  of  emigration,  let  it  roll  as  it 
will,  never  overwhelms  the  backwoodsman  into  itself; 
he  rides  upon  advance,  as  the  Polynesian  upon  the  comb 
of  the  surf. 

" '  Thus,  though  he  keep  moving  on  through  life,  he 
maintains  with  respect  to  nature  much  the  same  unal 
tered  relation  throughout ;  with  her  creatures,  too, 
including  panthers  and  Indians.  Hence,  it  is  not 
unlikely  that,  accurate  as  the  theory  of  the  Peace  Con 
gress  may  be  with  respect  to  those  two  varieties  of 


THE    METAPHYSICS    OP    I  N  D  I  AN -H  AT  I  N  G.     227 

beings,  among  others,  yet  the  backwoodsman  might  be 
qualified  to  throw  out  some  practical  suggestions. 

"  'As  the  child  born  to  a  backwoodsman  must  in  turn 
lead  his  father's  life — a  life  which,  as  related  to  human 
ity,  is  related  mainly  to  Indians — it  is  thought  best 
not  to  mince  matters,  out  of  delicacy  ;  but  to  tell  the  boy 
pretty  plainly  what  an  Indian  is,  and  what  he  must  ex 
pect  from  him.  For  however  charitable  it  may  be  to 
view  Indians  as  members  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  yet 
to  affirm  them  such  to  one  ignorant  of  Indians,  whose 
lonely  path  lies  a  long  way  through  their  lands,  this,  in 
the  event,  might  prove  not  only  injudicious  but  cruel. 
At  least  something  of  this  kind  would  seem  the  maxim 
upon  which  backswoods'  education  is  based.  Accord 
ingly,  if  in  youth  the  backwoodsman  .incline  to  know 
ledge,  as  is  generally  the  case,  he  hears  little  from  his 
schoolmasters,  the  old  chroniclers  of  the  forest,  but  his 
tories  of  Indian  lying,  Indian  theft,  Indian  double- 
dealing,  Indian  fraud  and  perfidy,  Indian  want  of 
conscience,  Indian  blood-thirstiness,  Indian  diabolism — 
histories  which,  though  of  wild  woods,  are  almost  as 
full  of  things  unangelic  as  the  Newgate  Calendar  or  the 
Annals  of  Europe.  In  these  Indian  narratives  and  tra 
ditions  the  lad  is  thoroughly  grounded.  "  As  the  twig 
is  bent  the  tree's  inclined."  The  instinct  of  antipathy 
against  an  Indian  grows  in  the  backwoodsman  with  the 
sense  of  good  and  bad,  right  and  wrong.  In  one  breath 
he  learns  that  a  brother  is  to  be  loved,  and  an  Indian  to 
be  hated. 

"  'Such  are   the  facts,'  the  judge  would  say,  'upon 


228  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

which,  if  one  seek  to  moralize,  he  must  do  so  with  an 
eye  to  them.  It  is  terrible  that  one  creature  should  so 
regard  another,  should  make  it  conscience  to  abhor  an 
entire  race.  It  is  terrible  ;  but  is  it  surprising  ?  Sur 
prising,  that  one  should  hate  a  race  which  he  believes  to 
be  red  from  a  cause  akin  to  that  which  makes  some  tribes 
of  garden  insects  green  ?  A  race  whose  name  is  upon 
the  frontier  a  memento  mori;  painted  to  him  in  every  evil 
light ;  now  a  horse-thief  like  those  in  Moyamensing  ; 
now  an  assassin  like  a  New  York  rowdy  ;  now  a  treaty- 
breaker  like  an  Austrian  ;  now  a  Palmer  with  poisoned 
arrows;  now  a  judicial  murderer  and  Jeffries,  after  a 
fierce  farce  of  trial  condemning  his  victim  to  bloody 
death  ;  or  a  Jew  with  hospitable  speeches  cozening 
some  fainting  stranger  into  ambuscade,  there  to  burk 
him,  and  account  it  a  deed  grateful  to  Manitou,  his  god. 
"  '  Still,  all  this  is  less  advanced  as  truths  of  the  Indians 
than  as  examples  of  the  backwoodsman's  impression  of 
them — in  which  the  charitable  may  think  he  does  them 
some  injustice.  Certain  it  is,  the  Indians  themselves 
think  so ;  quite  unanimously,  too.  The  Indians,  in 
deed,  protest  against  the  backwoodsman's  view  of 
them  ;  and  some  think  that  one  cause  of  their  returning 
his  antipathy  so  sincerely  as  they  do,  is  their  moral  in 
dignation  at  being  so  libeled  by  him,  as  they  really  be 
lieve  and  say.  But  whether,  on  this  or  any  point,  the 
Indians  should  be  permitted  to  testify  for  themselves, 
to-  the  exclusion  of  other  testimony,  is  a  question  that 
may  be  left  to  the  Supreme  Court.  At  any  rate,  it  has 
been  observed  that  when  an  Indian  becomes  a  genuine 


THE    METAPHYSICS    OF    INDIAN- HATING.     229 

proselyte  to  Christianity  (such  cases,  however,  not  being 
very  many;  though,  indeed,  entire  tribes  are  sometimes 
nominally  brought  to  the  true  light,)  he  will  not  in  that 
case  conceal  his  enlightened  conviction,  that  his  race's 
portion  by  nature  is  total  depravity  ;  and.  in  that  way, 
as  much  as  admits  that  the  backwoodsman's  worst  idea 
of  it  is  not  very  far  from  true  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
those  red  men  who  are  the  greatest  sticklers  for  the 
theory  of  Indian  virtue,  and  Indian  loving-kindness,  are 
sometimes  the  arrantest  horse-thieves  and  tomahawkers 
among  them.  So,  at  least,  avers  the  backwoodsman. 
And  though,  knowing  the  Indian  nature,  as  he  thinks  he 
does,  he  fancies  he  is  not  ignorant  that  an  Indian  may 
in  some  points  deceive  himself  almost  as  effectually  as  in 
bush-tactics  he  can  another,  yet  his  theory  and  his  prac 
tice  as  above  contrasted  seem  to  involve  an  inconsistency 
so  extreme,  that  the  backwoodsman  only  accounts  for  it 
on  the  supposition  that  when  a  tomahawking  red-man 
advances  the  notion  of  the  benignity  of  the  red  race,  it 
it  but  part  and  parcel  with  that  subtle  strategy  which 
he  finds  so  useful  in  war,  in  hunting,  and  the  general 
conduct  of  life.' 

"  In  further  explanation  of  that  deep  abhorrence  with 
which  the  backwoodsman  regards  the  savage,  the  judge 
used  to  think  it  might  perhaps  a  little  help,  to  consider 
what  kind  of  stimulus  to  it  is  furnished  in  those  forest 
histories  and  traditions  before  spoken  of.  In  which  be 
half,  he  would  tell  the  story  of  the  little  colony  of 
Wrights  and  Weavers,  originally  seven  cousins  from  Vir 
ginia,  who,  after  successive  removals  with  their  families, 


230  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

at  last  established  themselves  near  the  southern  frontier 
of  the  Bloody  Ground,  Kentucky:  'They  were  strong, 
brave  men ;  but,  unlike  many  of  the  pioneers  in  those 
days,  theirs  was  no  love  of  conflict  for  conflict's  sake. 
Step  by  step  they  had  been  lured  to  their  lonely  resting- 
place  by  the  ever-beckoning  seductions  of  a  fertile  and 
virgin  land,  with  a  singular  exemption,  during  the  march, 
from  Indian  molestation.  But  clearings  made  and 
houses  built,  the  bright  shield  was  soon  to  turn  its  other 
side.  After  repeated  persecutions  and  eventual  hostili 
ties,  forced  on  them  by  a  dwindled  tribe  in  their  neigh 
borhood — persecutions  resulting  in  loss  of  crops  and 
cattle;  hostilities  in  which  they  lost  two  of  their  num 
ber,  illy  to  be  spared,  besides  others  getting  painful 
wounds — the  five  remaining  cousins  made,  with  some 
serious  concessions,  a  kind  of  treaty  with  Mocmohoc, 
the  chief — being  to  this  induced  by  the  harryings  of 
the  enemy,  leaving  them  no  peace.  But  they  were 
further  prompted,  indeed,  first  incited,  by  the  suddenly 
changed  ways  of  Mocmohoc,  who,  though  hitherto 
deemed  a  savage  almost  perfidious  as  Caesar  Borgia,  yet 
now  put  on  a  seeming  the  reverse  of  this,  engaging  to 
bury  the  hatchet,  smoke  the  pipe,  and  be  friends  for 
ever  ;  not  friends  in  the  mere  sense  of  renouncing 
enmity,  but  in  the  sense  of  kindliness,  active  and  fami 
liar. 

"  '  But  what  the  chief  now  seemed,  did  not  wholly 
blind  them  to  what  the  chief  had  been  ;  so  that,  though 
in  no  small  degree  influenced  by  his  change  of  bearing, 
they  still  distrusted  him  enough  to  covenant  with  him, 


THE    METAPHYSICS    OF    INDIAN-HATING.     231 

among  other  articles  on  their  side,  that  though  friendly 
visits  should  be  exchanged  between  the  wigwams  and 
the  cabins,  yet  the  five  cousins  should  never,  on  any 
account,  be  expected  to  enter  the  chief's  lodge  together. 
The  intention  was,  though  they  reserved  it,  that  if  ever, 
under  the  guise  of  amity,  the  chief  should  mean  them 
mischief,  and  effect  it,  it  should  be  but  partially  ;  so  that 
some  of  the  five  might  survive,  not  only  for  their  families' 
sake,  but  also  for  retribution's.  Nevertheless,  Moc- 
mohoc  did,  upon  a  time,  with  such  fine  art  and  pleas 
ing  carriage  win  their  confidence,  that  he  brought  them 
all  together  to  a  feast  of  bear's  meat,  and  there,  by  strata 
gem,  ended  them.  Years  after,  over  their  calcined  bones 
and  those  of  all  their  families,  the  chief,  reproached  for 
his  treachery  by  a  proud  hunter  whom  he  had  made  cap 
tive,  jeered  out,  "Treachery?  pale  face!  'Twas  they 
who  broke  their  covenant  first,  in  coming  all  together ; 
they  that  broke  it  first,  in  trusting  Mocmohoc."  ' 

"  At  this  point  the  judge  would  pause,  and  lifting  his 
hand,  and  rolling  his  eyes,  exclaim  in  a  solemn  enough 
voice,  *  Circling  wiles  and  bloody  lusts.  The  acuteness 
and  genius  of  the  chief  but  make  him  the  more  atro 
cious.' 

"  After  another  pause,  he  would  begin  an  imaginary 
kind  of  dialogue  between  a  backwoodsman  and  a  ques 
tioner  : 

"  '  But  are  all  Indians  like  Mocmohoc  ? — Not  all  have 
proved  such  ;  but  in  the  least  harmful  may  lie  his  germ. 
There  is  an  Indian  nature.  "  Indian  blood  is  in  me,"  is  the 
half-breed's  threat. — But  are  not  some  Indians  kind  ? — 


232  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

Yes,  but  kind  Indians  are  mostly  lazy,  and  reputed  sim 
ple — at  all  events,  are  seldom  chiefs ;  chiefs  among  the 
red  men  being  taken  from  the  active,  and  those  ac 
counted  wise.  Hence,  with  small  promotion,  kind  In 
dians  have  but  proportionate  influence.  And  kind 
Indians  may  be  forced  to  do  unkind  biddings.  So  "  be 
ware  the  Indian,  kind  or  unkind,"  said  Daniel  Boone,  who 
lost  his  sons  by  them. — But,  have  all  you  backwoods 
men  been  some  way  victimized  by  Indians? — No. — Well, 
and  in  certain  cases  may  not  at  least  some  few  of  you  be 
favored  by  them  ? — Yes,  but  scarce  one  among  us  so 
self-important,  or  so  selfish-minded,  as  to  hold  his  per 
sonal  exemption  from  Indian  outrage  such  a  set-off 
against  the  contrary  experience  of  so  many  others,  as 
that  he  must  needs,  in  a  general  way,  think  well  of  In 
dians  ;  or,  if  he  do,  an  arrow  in  his  flank  might  suggest  a 
pertinent  doubt, 

"  *  In  short,'  according  to  the  judge,  *  if  we  at  all  credit 
the  backwoodsman,  his  feeling  against  Indians,  to  be 
taken  aright,  must  be  considered  as  being  not  so  much 
on  his  own  account  as  on  others',  or  jointly  on  both 
accounts.  True  it  is,  scarce  a  family  he  knows  but  some 
member  of  it,  or  connection,  has  been  by  Indians  maimed 
or  scalped.  What  avails,  then,  that  some  one  Indian,  or 
some  two  or  three,  treat  a  backwoodsman  friendly-like  ? 
He  fears  me,  he  thinks.  Take  my  rifle  from  me,  give 
him  motive,  and  what  will  come?  Or  if  not  so,  how 
know  I  what  involuntary  preparations  may  be  going 
on  in  him  for  things  as  unbeknown  in  present  time  to 
him  as  me — a  sort  of  chemical  preparation  in  the  soul 


THE    METAPHYSICS    OF    INDIAN- HATING.     233 

for  malice,  as  chemical  preparation  in  the  body  for 
malady.' 

"  Not  that  the  backwoodsman  ever  used  those  words, 
you  see,  but  the  judge  found  him  expression  for  his 
meaning.  And  this  point  he  would  conclude  with  say 
ing,  that, '  what  is  called  a  "  friendly  Indian"'  is  a  very  rare 
sort  of  creature  ;  and  well  it  was  so,  for  no  ruthless- 
ness  exceeds  that  of-  a  "  friendly  Indian"  turned  enemy. 
A  coward  friend,  he  makes  a  valiant  foe. 

" '  But,  thus  far  the  passion  in  question  has  been 
viewed  in  a  general  way  as  that  of  a  community.  When 
to  his  due  share  of  this  the  backwoodsman  adds  his  pri 
vate  passion,  we  have  then  the  stock  out  of  which  is 
formed,  if  formed  at  all,  the  Indian-hater  par  excel 
lence? 

"  The  Indian-hater  par  excellence  the  judge  defined  to 
be  one  « who,  having  with  his  mother's  milk  drank  in 
small  love  for  red  men,  in  youth  or  early  manhood,  ere 
the  sensibilities  become  osseous,  receives  at  their  hand 
some  signal  outrage,  or,  which  in  effect  is  much  the  same, 
some  of  his  kin  have,  or  some  friend.  Now,  nature 
all  around  him  by  her  solitudes  wooing  or  bidding  him 
muse  upon  this  matter,  he  accordingly  does  so,  till  the 
thought  develops  such  attraction,  that  much  as  strag 
gling  vapors  troop  from  all  sides  to  a  storm-cloud,  so 
straggling  thoughts  of  other  outrages  troop  to  the  nu 
cleus  thought,  assimilate  with  it,  and  swell  it.  At  last, 
taking  counsel  with  the  elements,  he  comes  to  his  reso 
lution.  An  intenser  Hannibal,  he  makes  a  vow,  the  hate 
of  which  is  a  vortex  from  whose  suction  scarce  the 


234  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

remotest  chip  of  the  guilty  race  may  reasonably  feel 
secure.  Next,  he  declares  himself  and  settles  his  tem 
poral  affairs.  With  the  solemnity  of  a  Spaniard  turned 
monk,  he  takes  leave  of  his  kin  ;  or  rather,  these  leave- 
takings  have  something  of  the  still  more  impressive 
finality  of  death-bed  adieus.  Last,  he  commits  himself 
to  the  forest  primeval ;  there,  so  long  as  life  shall  be  his, 
to  act  upon  a  calm,  cloistered  scheme  of  strategical,  im 
placable,  and  lonesome  vengeance.  Ever  on  the  noise 
less  trail ;  cool,  collected,  patient ;  less  seen  than  felt ; 
snuffing,  smelling — a  Leather-stocking  Nemesis.  In  the 
settlements  he  will  not  be  seen  again  ;  in  eyes  of  old 
companions  tears  may  start  at  some  chance  thing  that 
speaks  of  him  ;  but  they  never  look  for  him,  nor  call ; 
they  know  he  will  not  come.  Suns  and  seasons  fleet ; 
the  tiger-lily  blows  and  falls  ;  babes  are  born  and  leap  in 
their  mothers'  arms  ;  but,  the  Indian-hater  is  good  as 
gone  to  his  long  home,  and  "  Terror"  is  his  epitaph.' 

"  Here  the  judge,  not  unaffected,  would  pause  again, 
but  presently  resume :  *  How  evident  that  in  strict  speech 
there  can  be  no  biography  of  an  Indian-hater  par  excel 
lence,  any  more  than  one  of  a  sword-fish,  or  other  deep- 
sea  denizen  ;  or,  which  is  still  less  imaginable,  one  of  a 
dead  man.  The  career  of  the  Indian-hater  par  excellence 
has  the  impenetrability  of  the  fate  of  a  lost  steamer. 
Doubtless,  events,  terrible  ones,  have  happened,  must 
have  happened  ;  but  the  powers  that  be  in  nature  have 
taken  order  that  they  shall  never  become  news. 

"  '  But,  luckily  for  the  curious,  there  is  a  species  of  di 
luted  Indian-hater,  one  whose  heart  proves  not  so  steely 


THE    METAPHYSICS    OF    I  ND  I A  N  -H  A  T  IN  G  .     235 

as  his  brain.  Soft  enticements  of  domestic  life  too 
often  draw  him  from  the  ascetic  trail ;  a  monk  who 
apostatizes  to  the  world  at  times.  Like  a  mariner,  too, 
though  much  abroad,  he  may  have  a  wife  and  family  in 
some  green  harbor  which  he  does  not  forget.  It  is  with 
him  as  with  the  Papist  converts  in  Senegal ;  fasting  and 
mortification  prove  hard  to  bear.' 

u  The  judge,  with  his  usual  judgment,  always  thought 
that  the  intense  solitude  to  which  the  Indian- hater  con 
signs  himself,  has,  by  its  overawing  influence,  no  little 
to  do  with  relaxing  his  vow.  He  would  relate  in 
stances  where,  after  some  months'  lonely  scoutings,  the 
Indian-hater  is  suddenly  seized  with  a  sort  of  calenture ; 
hurries  openly  towards  the  first  smoke,  though  he  knows 
it  is  an  Indian's,  announces  himself  as  a  lost  hunter, 
gives  the  savage  his  rifle,  throws  himself  upon  his  chari 
ty,  embraces  him  with  much  affection,  imploring  the 
privilege  of  living  a  while  in  his  sweet  companionship. 
What  is  too  often  the  sequel  of  so  distempered  a  proced 
ure  may  be  best  known  by  those  who  best  know  the 
Indian.  Upon  the  whole,  the  judge,  by  two  and  thirty 
good  and  sufficient  reasons,  would  maintain  that  there 
was  no  known  vocation  whose  consistent  following  calls 
for  such  self-containings  as  that  of  the  Indian-hater  par 
excellence.  In  the  highest  view,  he  considered  such  a  soul 
one  peeping  out  but  once  an  age. 

"For  the  diluted  Indian-hater,  although  the  vacations 
he  permits  himself  impair  the  keeping  of  the  character, 
yet,  it  should  not  be  overlooked  that  this  is  the  man 
who,  by  his  very  infirmity,  enables  us  to  form  surmises, 


236  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

however  inadequate,  of  what  Indian-hating  in  its  perfec 
tion  is." 

"  One  moment,"  gently  interrupted  the  cosmopolitan 
here,  "and  let  me  refill  my  calumet." 

Which  being  done,  the  other  proceeded : — 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  A  MAN  OF  QUESTIONABLE  MORALITY,  BUT  WHO,  NEVER 
THELESS,  WOULD  SEEM  ENTITLED  TO  THE  ESTEEM  OF  THAT  EMINENT 
ENGLISH  MORALIST  WHO  SAID  HE  LIKED  A  GOOD  HATER. 

"  COMING  to  mention  the  man  to  whose  story  all  thus 
far  said  was  but  the  introduction,  the  judge,  who,  like 
you,  was  a  great  smoker,  would  insist  upon  all  the  com 
pany  taking  cigars,  and  then  lighting  a  fresh  one  him 
self,  rise  in  his  place,  and,  with  the  solemnest  voice,  say — 
'  Gentlemen,  let  us  smoke  to  the  memory  of  Colonel  John 
Moredock ;'  when,  after  several  whiffs  taken  standing  in 
deep  silence  and  deeper  reverie,  he  would  resume  his 
seat  and  his  discourse,  something  in  these  words : 

"  'Though  Colonel  John  Moredock  was  not  an  Indian- 
hater  par  excellence,  he  yet  cherished  a  kind  of  sentiment 
towards  the  red  man,  and  in  that  degree,  and  so  acted 
out  his  sentiment  as  sufficiently  to  merit  the  tribute 
just  rendered  to  his  memory. 

"  *  John  Moredock  was  the  son  of  a  woman  married 
thrice,  and  thrice  widowed  by  a  tomahawk.  The  three 
successive  husbands  of  this  woman  had  been  pioneers, 
and  with  them  she  had  wandered  from  wilderness  to 
wilderness,  always  on  the  frontier.  With  nine  children, 


23S  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

she  at  last  found  herself  at  a  little  clearing,  afterwards 
Vincennes.  There  she  joined  a  company  about  to  re 
move  to  the  new  country  of  Illinois.  On  the  eastern 
side  of  Illinois  there  were  then  no  settlements ;  but  on 
the  west  side,  the  shore  of  the  Mississippi,  there  were, 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Kaskaskia,  some  old  hamlets 
of  French.  To  the  vicinity  of  those  hamlets,  very  inno 
cent  and  pleasant  places,  a  new  Arcadia,  Mrs.  Moredock's 
party  was  destined  ;  for  thereabouts,  among  the  vines, 
they  meant  to  settle.  They  embarked  upon  the  Wa- 
bash  in  boats,  proposing  descending  that  stream  intg  the 
Ohio,  and  the  Ohio  into  the  Mississippi,  and  so,  north 
wards,  towards  the  point  to  be  reached.  All  went  well 
till  they  made  the  rock  of  the  Grand  Tower  on  the  Mis 
sissippi,  where  they  had  to  land  and  drag  their  boats 
round  a  point  swept  by  a  strong  current.  Here  a  party 
of  Indians,  lying  in  wait,  rushed  out  and  murdered 
nearly  all  of  them.  The  widow  was  among  the  victims 
with  her  children,  John  excepted,  who,  some  fifty  miles 
distant,  was  following  with  a  second  party. 

"  *  He  was  just  entering  upon  manhood,  when  thus  left 
in  nature  sole  survivor  of  his  race.  Other  youngsters 
might  have  turned  mourners ;  he  turned  avenger. 
His  nerves  were  electric  wires — sensitive,  but  steel.  He 
was  one  who,  from  self-possession,  could  be  made  neither 
to  flush  nor  pale.  It  is  said  that  when  the  tidings 
were  brought  him,  he  was  ashore  sitting  beneath  a  hem 
lock  eating  his  dinner  of  venison — and  as  the  tidings 
were  told  him,  after  the  first  start  he  kept  on  eating, 
but  slowly  and  deliberately,  chewing  the  wild  news 


A    MAN    OF    QUESTIONABLE    MORALITY.      239 

with  the  wild  meat,  as  if  both  together,  turned  to  chyle, 
together  should  sinew  him  to  his  intent.  From  that  meal 
he  rose  an  Indian-hater.  He  rose  ;  got  his  arms,  prevailed 
upon  some  comrades  to  join  him,  and  without  delay 
started  to  discover  who  were  the  actual  transgressors. 
They  proved  to  belong  to  a  band  of  twenty  renegades 
from  various  tribes,  outlaws  even  among  Indians,  and 
who  had  formed  themselves  into  a  maurauding  crew. 
No  opportunity  for  action  being  at  the  time  presented, 
he  dismissed  his  friends ;  told  them  to  go  on,  thanking 
them,  and  saying  he  would  ask  their  aid  at  some  future 
day.  For  upwards  of  a  year,  alone  in  the  wilds,  he 
watched  the  crew.  Once,  what  he  thought  a  favorable 
chance  having  occurred — it  being  midwinter,  and  the 
savages  encamped,  apparently  to  remain  so — he  anew 
mustered  his  friends,  and  marched  against  them  ;  but, 
getting  wind  of  his  coming,  the  enemy  fled,  and  in 
such  panic  that  everything  was  left  behind  but  their 
weapons.  During  the  winter,  much  the  same  thing 
happened  upon  two  subsequent  occasions.  The  next 
year  he  sought  them  at  the  head  of  a  party  pledged  to 
serve  him  for  forty  days.  At  last  the  hour  came.  It 
was  on  the  shore  of  the  Mississippi.  From  their  covert, 
Moredock  and  his  men  dimly  descried  the  gang  of  Cains 
in  the  red  dusk  of  evening,  paddling  over  to  a  jungled 
island  in  mid-stream,  there  the  more  securely  to  lodge  ; 
for  Moredock's  retributive  spirit  in  the  wilderness  spoke 
ever  to  their  trepidations  nowr  like  the  voice  calling 
through  the  garden.  Waiting  until  dead  of  night,  the 
whites  swam  the  river,  towing  after  them  a  raft  laden 


240  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

with  their  arms.  On  landing,  Moredock  cut  the  fasten 
ings  of  the  enemy's  canoes,  and  turned  them,  with  his 
own  raft,  adrift ;  resolved  that  there  should  be  neither 
escape  for  the  Indians,  nor  safety,  except  in  victory,  for 
the  whites.  Victorious  the  whites  were  ;  but  three  of 
the  Indians  saved  themselves  by  taking  to  the  stream. 
Moredock's  band  lost  not  a  man. 

"  *  Three  of  the  murderers  survived.  He  knew  their 
names  and  persons.  In  the  course  of  three  years  each 
successively  fell  by  his  own  hand.  All  were  now  dead. 
But  this  did  not  suffice.  He  made  no  avowal,  but  to 
kill  Indians  had  become  his  passion.  As  an  athlete,  he 
had  few  equals ;  as  a  shot,  none  ;  in  single  combat,  not 
to  be  beaten.  Master  of  that  woodland-cunning  enabling 
the  adept  to  subsist  where  the  tyro  would  perish,  and 
expert  in  all  those  arts  by  which  an  enemy  is  pursued 
for  weeks,  perhaps  months,  without  once  suspecting  it, 
he  kept  to  the  forest.  The  solitary  Indian  that  met  him, 
died.  When  a  murder  was  descried,  he  would  either 
secretly  pursue  their  track  for  some  chance  to  strike  at 
least  one  blow ;  or  if,  while  thus  engaged,  he  himself 
was  discovered,  he  would  elude  them  by  superior  skill. 

"  *  Many  years  he  spent  thus  ;  and  though  after  a  time 
he  was,  in  a  degree,  restored  to  the  ordinary  life  of  the 
region  and  period,  yet  it  is  believed  that  John  Moredock 
never  let  pass  an  opportunity  of  quenching  an  Indian. 
Sins  of  commission  in  that  kind  may  have  been  his,  but 
none  of  omission. 

"  '  It  were  to  err  to  suppose,'  the  judge  would  say, '  that 
this  gentleman  was  naturally  ferocious,  or  peculiarly 


A    MAN    OF    QUESTIONABLE    MORALITY.       241 

possessed  of  those  qualities,  which,  unhelped  by  provo 
cation  of  events,  tend  to  withdraw  man  from  social  life. 
On  the  contrary,  Moredock  was  an  example,  of  something 
apparently  self-contradicting,  certainly  curious,  but,  at 
the  same  time,  undeniable :  namely,  that  nearly  all  In 
dian-haters  have  at  bottom  loving  hearts;  at  any  rate, 
hearts,  if  anything,  more  generous  than  the  average. 
Certain  it  is,  that,  to  the  degree  in  which  he  mingled  in 
the  life  of  the  settlements,  Moredock  showed  himself 
not  without  humane  feelings.  No  cold  husband  or  colder 
father,  he ;  and,  though  often  and  long  away  from  his 
household,  bore  its  needs  in  mind,  and  provided  for  them. 
He  could  be  very  convivial ;  told  a  good  story  (though 
never  of  his  more  private  exploits),  and  sung  a  capital 
song.  Hospitable,  not  backward  to  help  a  neighbor  ;  by 
report,  benevolent,  as  retributive,  in  secret;  while,  in  a 
general  manner,  though  sometimes  grave — as  is  not  un 
usual  with  men  of  his  complexion,  a  sultry  and  tragical 
brown — yet  with  nobody,  Indians  excepted,  otherwise 
than  courteous  in  a  manly  fashion ;  a  moccasined 
gentleman,  admired  and  loved.  In  fact,  no  one  more 
popular,  as  an  incident  to  follow  may  prove. 

"  *  His  bravery,  whether  in  Indian  fight  or  any  other, 
was  unquestionable.  An  officer  in  the  ranging  service 
during  the  war  of  1812,  he  acquitted  himself  with  more 
than  credit.  Of  his  soldierly  character,  this  anecdote  is 
told  :  Not  long  after  Hull's  dubious  surrender  at  Detroit, 
Moredock  with  some  of  his  rangers  rode  up  at  night  to  a 
log-house,  there  to  rest  till  morning.  The  horses  being 

attended  to,  supper  over,  and  sleeping-places  assigned 
11 


242  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

the  troop,  the  host  showed  the  colonel  his  best  bed, 
not  on  the  ground  like  the  rest,  but  a  bed  that  stood  on 
legs.  But  out  of  delicacy,  the  guest  declined  to  mono 
polize  it,  or,  indeed,  to  occupy  it  at  all ;  when,  to  increase 
the  inducement,  as  the  host  thought,  he  was  told  that  a 
general  officer  had  once  slept  in  that  bed.  "  Who,  pray  ?" 
asked  the  colonel.  "  General  Hull."  "  Then  you  must 
not  take  offense,"  said  the  colonel,  buttoning  up  his  coat, 
"  but,  really,  no  coward's  bed,  for  me,  however  comfort 
able."  Accordingly  he  took  up  with  valor's  bed — a  cold 
one  on  the  ground. 

"  '  At  one  time  the  colonel  was  a  member  of  the  ter 
ritorial  council  of  Illinois,  ands  at  the  formation  of  the 
state  government,  was  pressed  to  become  candidate  for 
governor,  but  begged  to  be  excused.  And,  though  he 
declined  to  give  his  reasons  for  declining,  yet  by  those 
who  best  knew  him  the  cause  was  not  wholly  unsur- 
mised.  In  his  official  capacity  he  might  be  called  upon 
to  enter  into  friendly  treaties  with  Indian  tribes,  a  thing 
not  to  be  thought  of.  And  even  did  no  such  contingen 
cy  arise,  yet  he  felt  there  would  be  an  impropriety  in 
the  Governor  of  Illinois  stealing  out  now  and  then, 
during  a  recess  of  the  legislative  bodies,  for  a  few  days' 
shooting  at  human  beings,  within  the  limits  of  his  pa 
ternal  chief-magistracy.  If  the  governorship  offered  large 
honors,  from  Moredock  it  demanded  larger  sacrifices. 
These  were  incompatibles.  In  short,  he  was  not  una 
ware  that  to  be  a  consistent  Indian-hater  involves  the 
renunciation  of  ambition,  with  its  objects — the  pomps 
and  glories  of  the  world ;  and  since  religion,  pronouncing 


A   MAN    OF    QUESTIONABLE    MORALITY.       243 

such  things  vanities,  accounts  it  merit  to  renounce  them, 
therefore,  so  far  as  this  goes,  Indian-hating,  whatever 
may  be  thought  of  it  in  other  respects,  may  be  regarded 
as  not  wholly  without  the  efficacy  of  a  devout  senti 
ment.'  " 

Here  the  narrator  paused.  Then,  after  his  long  and 
irksome  sitting,  started  to  his  feet,  and  regulating  his 
disordered  shirt-frill,  and  at  the  same  time  adjustingly 
shaking  his  legs  down  in  his  rumpled  pantaloons,  con 
cluded  :  "  There,  I  have  done ;  having  given  you,  not 
my  story,  mind,  or  my  thoughts,  but  another's.  And 
now,  for  your  friend  Coonskins,  I  doubt  not,  that,  if  the 
judge  were  here,  he  would  pronounce  him  a  sort  of 
comprehensive  Colonel  Moredock,  who,  too  much  spread 
ing  his  passion,  shallows  it." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

MOOT  POINTS  TOUCHING  THE  LATE  COLONEL  JOHN  MOREDOCK. 

"  CHARITY,  charity !"  exclaimed  the  cosmopolitan, 
"never  a  sound  judgment  without  charity.  When  man 
judges  man,  charity  is  less  a  bounty  from  our  mercy 
than  just  allowance  for  the  insensible  lee-way  of  human 
fallibility.  God  forbid  that  my  eccentric  friend  should 
be  what  you  hint.  You  do  not  know  him,  or  but  im 
perfectly.  His  outside  deceived  you ;  at  first  it  came 
near  deceiving  even  me.  But  I  seized  a  chance,  when, 
owing  to  indignation  against  some  wrong,  he  laid  him 
self  a  little  open ;  I  seized  that  lucky  chance,  I  say,  to 
inspect  his  heart,  and  found  it  an  inviting  oyster  in  a  for 
bidding  shell.  His  outside  is  but  put  on.  Ashamed  of  his 
own  goodness,  he  treats  mankind  as  those  strange  old 
uncles  in  romances  do  their  nephews — snapping  at  them 
all  the  time  and  yet  loving  them  as  the  apple  of  their 
eye." 

"  Well,  my  words  with  him  were  few.  Perhaps  he  is 
not  what  I  took  him  for.  Yes,  for  aught  I  know,  you 
may  be  right." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it.  Charity,  like  poetry,  should  be 
cultivated,  if  only  for  its  being  graceful.  And  now,  since 


MOOT     POINTS.  245 

you  have  renounced  your  notion,  I  should  be  happy 
would  you,  so  to  speak,  renounce  your  story,  too.  That 
story  strikes  me  with  even  more  incredulity  than  won 
der.  To  me  some  parts  don't  hang  together.  If  the 
man  of  hate,  how  could  John  Moredock  be  also  the 
man  of  love  ?  Either  his  lone  campaigns  are  fabu 
lous  as  Hercules' ;  or  else,  those  being  true,  what  was 
thrown  in  about  his  geniality  is  but  garnish.  In  short, 
if  ever  there  was  such  a  man  as  Moredock,  he,  in  my 
way  of  thinking,  was  either  misanthrope  or  nothing  ; 
and  his  misanthropy  the  more  intense  from  being  focus 
ed  on  one  race  of  men.  Though,  like  suicide,  man- 
hatred  would  seem  peculiarly  a  Roman  and  a  Grecian 
passion — that  is,  Pagan  ;  yet,  the  annals  of  neither  Rome 
nor  Greece  can  produce  the  equal  in  man-hatred  of 
Colonel  Moredock,  as  the  judge  and  you  have  painted 
him.  As  for  this  Indian-hating  in  general,  I  can  only 
say  of  it  what  Dr.  Johnson  said  of  the  alleged  Lisbon 
earthquake  :  '  Sir,  I  don't  believe  it.'  " 

"Didn't  believe  it?  Why  not ?  Clashed  with  any 
little  prejudice  of  his  ?" 

"  Doctor  Johnson  had  no  prejudice;  but,  like  a  cer 
tain  other  person,"  with  an  ingenuous  smile,  "  he  had 
sensibilities,  and  those  were  pained." 

"  Dr.  Johnson  was  a  good  Christian,  wasn't  he  ?" 

"  He  was." 

"  Suppose  he  had  been  something  else." 

"  Then  small  incredulity  as  to  the  alleged  earth 
quake." 

"  Suppose  he  had  been  also  a  misanthrope  ?" 


246  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  Then  small  incredulity  as  to  the  robberies  and  mur 
ders  alleged  to  have  been  perpetrated  under  the  pall  of 
smoke  and  ashes.  The  infidels  of  the  time  were  quick 
to  credit  those  reports  and  worse.  So  true  is  it  that, 
while  religion,  contrary  to  the  common  notion,  implies, 
in  certain  cases,  a  spirit  of  slow  reserve  as  to  assent, 
infidelity,  which  claims  to  despise  credulity,  is  some 
times  swift  to  it." 

"You  rather  jumble  together  misanthropy  and  in 
fidelity." 

"  I  do  not  jumble  them  ;  they  are  coordinates.  For 
misanthropy,  springing  from  the  same  root  with  dis 
belief  of  religion,  is  twin  with  that.  It  springs  from 
the  same  root,  I  say  ;  for,  set  aside  materialism,  and 
what  is  an  atheist,  but  one  who  does  not,  or  will  not, 
see  in  the  universe  a  ruling  principle  of  love  ;  and 
what  a  misanthrope,  but  one  who  does  not,  or  will 
not,  see  in  man  a  ruling  principle  of  kindness  ?  Don't 
you  see  ?  In  either  case  the  vice  consists  in  a  want  of 
confidence." 

"  What  sort  of  a  sensation  is  misanthropy  ?" 

"  Might  as  well  ask  me  what  sort  of  sensation  is 
hydrophobia.  Don't  know;  never  had  it.  But  I  have 
often  wondered  what  it  can  be  like.  Can  a  misan 
thrope  feel  warm,  I  ask  myself ;  take  ease  ?  be  com 
panionable  with  himself?  Can  a  misanthrope  smoke 
a  cigar  and  muse  ?  How  fares  he  in  solitude  ?  Has 
the  misanthrope  such  a  thing  as  an  appetite  ?  Shall  a 
peach  refresh  him  ?  The  effervescence  of  champagne, 
with  what  eye  does  he  behold  it  ?  Is  summer  good  to 


MOOT      POINTS.  247 

him  ?  Of  long  winters  how  much  can  he  sleep  ?  What 
are  his  dreams  ?  How  feels  he,  and  what  does  he,  when 
suddenly  awakened,  alone,  at  dead  of  night,  by  fusilades 
of  thunder?" 

"  Like  you,"  said  the  stranger,  "  I  can't  understand  the 
misanthrope.  So  far  as  my  experience  goes,  either  man 
kind  is  worthy  one's  best  love,  or  else  I  have  been  lucky. 
Never  has  it  been  my  lot  to  have  been  wronged,  though 
but  in  the  smallest  degree.  Cheating,  backbiting,  su 
perciliousness,  disdain,  hard-heartedness,  and  all  that 
brood,  I  know  but  by  report.  Cold  regards  tossed  over 
the  sinister  shoulder  of  a  former  friend,  ingratitude  in 
a  beneficiary,  treachery  in  a  confidant — such  things  may 
be  ;  but  I  must  take  somebody's  word  for  it.  Now  the 
bridge  that  has  carried  me  so  well  over,  shall  I  not 
praise  it  ?" 

"  Ingratitude  to  the  worthy  bridge  not  to  do  so. 
Man  is  a  noble  fellow,  and  in  an  age  of  satirists,  I  am 
not  displeased  to  find  one  who  has  confidence  in  him, 
and  bravely  stands  up  for  him." 

"  Yes,  I  always  speak  a  good  word  for  man  ;  and  what 
is  more,  am  always  ready  to  do  a  good  deed  for 
him." 

"  You  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart,"  responded  the 
cosmopolitan,  with  a  candor  which  lost  nothing  by  its 
calmness.  "  Indeed,"  he  added,  "  our  sentiments  agree 
so,  that  were  they  written  in  a  book,  whose  was  whose, 
few  but  the  nicest  critics  might  determine." 

"  Since  we  are  thus  joined  in  mind,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  why  not  be  joined  in  hand  ?" 


248  THE      CONFIDENCE  -MAN. 

"  My  hand  is  always  at  the  service  of  virtue,"  frankly 
extending  it  to  him  as  to  virtue  personified. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  stranger,  cordially  retaining  his 
hand,  "  you  know  our  fashion  here  at  the  West.  It  may 
be  a  little  low,  but  it  is  kind.  Briefly,  we  being  newly- 
made  friends  must  drink  together.  What  say  you  ?" 

"  Thank  you  ;  but  indeed,  you  must  excuse  me." 

"Why?" 

"Because,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  to-day  met  so 
many  old  friends,  all  free-hearted,  convivial  gentlemen, 
that  really,  really,  though  for  the  present  I  succeed  in 
mastering  it,  I  am  at  bottom  almost  in  the  condition  of 
a  sailor  who,  stepping  ashore  after  a  long  voyage,  ere 
night  reels  with  loving  welcomes,  his  head  of  less  capa 
city  than  his  heart." 

At  the  allusion  to  old  friends,  the  stranger's  counte 
nance  a  little  fell,  as  a  jealous  lover's  might  at  hearing 
from  his  sweetheart  of  former  ones.  But  rallying,  he 
said:  "  No  doubt  they  treated  you  to  something  strong; 
but  wine — surely,  that  gentle  creature,  wine  ;  come,  let 
us  have  a  little  gentle  wine  at  one  of  these  little  tables 
here.  Come,  come."  Then  essaying  to  roll  about  like 
a  full  pipe  in  the  sea,  sang  in  a  voice  which  had  had  more 
of  good-fellowship,  had  there  been  less  of  a  latent  squeak 
to  it: 

"  Let  us  drink  of  the  wine  of  the  vine  benign, 
That  sparkles  warm  in  Zansovine." 

The  cosmopolitan,  with  longing  eye  upon  him,  stood 
as  sorely  tempted  and  wavering  a  moment ;  then,  abrupt- 


MOOT      POINTS.  249 

ly  stepping  towards  him,  with  a  look  of  dissolved  sur 
render,  said  :  "  When  mermaid  songs  move  figure-heads, 
then  may  glory,  gold,  and  women  try  their  blandish 
ments  on  me.  But  a  good  fellow,  singing  a  good  song. 
he  woos  forth  my  every  spike,  so  that  my  whole  hull, 
like  a  ship's,  sailing  by  a  magnetic  rock,  caves  in  with 
acquiescence.  Enough :  when  one  has  a  heart  of  a  cer 
tain  sort,  it  is  in  vain  trying  to  be  resolute." 
11* 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

THE   BOON   COMPANIONS. 

THE  wine,  port,  being  called  for,  and  the  two  seated 
at  the  little  table,  a  natural  pause  of  convivial  expect 
ancy  ensued  ;  the  stranger's  eye  turned  towards  the  bar 
near  by,  watching  the  red-cheeked,  white-aproned  man 
there,  blithely  dusting  the  bottle,  and  invitingly  arrang 
ing  the  salver  and  glasses ;  when,  with  a  sudden  impulse 
turning  round  his  head  towards  his  companion,  he  said, 
"  Ours  is  friendship  at  first  sight,  ain't  it?" 

"  It  is,"  was  the  placidly  pleased  reply  :  "  and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  friendship  at  first  sight  as  of  love 
at  first  sight :  it  is  the  only  true  one,  the  only  noble 
one.  It  bespeaks  confidence.  Who  would  go 'sounding 
his  way  into  love  or  friendship,  like  a  strange  ship  by 
night,  into  an  enemy's  harbor?" 

"  Right.  Boldly  in  before  the  wind.  Agreeable,  how 
we  always  agree.  By-the-way,  though  but  a  formality, 
friends  should  know  each  other's  names.  What  is  yours, 
pray?" 

"  Francis  Goodman.  But  those  who  love  me,  call  me 
Frank.  And  yours  ?" 


THE      BOON      COMPANIONS.  251 

"  Charles  Arnold  Noble.  But  do  you  call  me 
Charlie." 

"  I  will,  Charlie  ;  nothing  like  preserving  in  manhood 
the  fraternal  familiarities  of  youth.  It  proves  the  heart 
a  rosy  boy  to  the  last." 

"My  sentiments  again.    Ah  !" 

It  was  a  smiling  waiter,  with  the  smiling  bottle,  the 
cork  drawn ;  a  common  quart  bottle,  but  for  the  occa 
sion  fitted  at  bottom  into  a  little  bark  basket,  braided 
with  porcupine  quills,  gayly  tinted  in  the  Indian  fashion. 
This  being  set  before  the  entertainer,  he  regarded  it 
with  affectionate  interest,  but  seemed  not  to  understand, 
or  else  to  pretend  not  to,  a  handsome  red  label  pasted 
on  the  bottle,  bearing  the  capital  letters,  P.  W. 

"  P.  W.,"  said  he  at  last,  perplexedly  eying  the  pleas 
ing  poser,  "  now  what  does  P.  W.  mean  ?" 

"Shouldn't  wonder,"  said  the  cosmopolitan  gravely, 
"if  it  stood  for  port  wine.  You  called  for  port  wine, 
didn't  you  ?" 

"  Why  so  it  is,  so  it  is !" 

"  I  find  some  little  mysteries  not  very  hard  to  clear 
up,"  said  the  other,  quietly  crossing  his  legs. 

This  commonplace  seemed  to  escape  the  stranger's 
hearing,  for,  full  of  his  bottle,  he  now  rubbed  his  some 
what  sallow  hands  over  it,  and  with  a  strange  kind  of 
cackle,  meant  to  be  a  chirrup,  cried  :  "  Good  wine,  good 
wine  ;  is  it  not  the  peculiar  bond  of  good  feeling  ?" 
Then  brimming  both  glasses,  pushed  one  over,  saying, 
with  what  seemed  intended  for  an  air  of  fine  disdain  : 
"  Hi  betide  those  gloomy  skeptics  who  maintain  that 


252  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

now-a-days  pure  wine  is  unpurchasable  ;  that  almost 
every  variety  on  sale  is  less  the  vintage  of  vineyards 
than  laboratories  ;  that  most  bar-keepers  are  but  a  set 
of  male  Brinvilliarses,  with  complaisant  arts  practicing 
against  the  lives  of  their  best  friends,  their  customers." 

A  shade  passed  over  the  cosmopolitan.  After  a  few 
minutes'  down-cast  musing,  he  lifted  his  eyes  and  said  : 
"  I  have  long  thought,  my  dear  Charlie,  that  the  spirit 
in  which  wine  is  regarded  by  too  many  in  these  days  is 
one  of  the  most  painful  examples  of  want  of  confidence. 
Look  at  these  glasses.  He  who  could  mistrust  poison 
in  this  wine  would  mistrust  consumption  in  Hebe's 
cheek.  While,  as  for  suspicions  against  the  dealers  in 
wine  and  sellers  of  it,  those  who  cherish  such  suspicions 
can  have  but  limited  trust  in  the  human  heart.  Each 
human  heart  they  must  think  to  be  much  like  each  bot 
tle  of  port,  not  such  port  as  this,  but  such  port  as  they 
hold  to.  Strange  traducers,  who  see  good  faith  in  no 
thing,  however  sacred.  Not  medicines,  not  the  wine  in 
sacraments,  has  escaped  them.  The  doctor  with  his 
phial,  and  the  priest  with  his  chalice,  they  deem  equally 
the  unconscious  dispensers  of  bogus  cordials  to  the 
dying." 

"Dreadful!" 

"  Dreadful  indeed,"  said  the  cosmopolitan  solemnly. 
"  These  distrusters  stab  at  the  very  soul  of  confidence. 
If  this  wine,"  impressively  holding  up  his  full  glass,  "  if 
this  wine  with  its  bright  promise  be  not  true,  how  shall 
man  be,  whose  promise  can  be  no  brighter  ?  But  if  wine 
be  false,  while  men  are  true,  whither  shall  fly  convivial 


THE      BOON      COMPANIONS.  253 

geniality?  To  think  of  sincerely-genial  souls  drinking 
each  other's  health  at  unawares  in  perfidious  and  mur 
derous  drugs !" 

"  Horrible  !" 

"  Much  too  much  so  to  be  true,  Charlie.  Let  us  for-, 
get  it.  Come,  you  are  my  entertainer  on  this  occasion, 
and  yet  you  don't  pledge  me.  I  have  been  waiting  for 
it." 

"  Pardon,  pardon,"  half  confusedly  and  half  ostenta 
tiously  lifting  his  glass.  "  I  pledge  you,  Frank,  with 
my  whole  heart,  believe  me,"  taking  a  draught  too  de 
corous  to  be  large,  but  which,  small  though  it  was,  was 
followed  by  a  slight  involuntary  wryness  to  the  mouth. 

"  And  I  return  you  the  pledge,  Charlie,  heart-warm 
as  it  came  to  me,  and  honest  as  this  wine  I  drink  it  in," 
reciprocated  the  cosmopolitan  with  princely  kindliness  in 
his  gesture,  taking  a  generous  swallow,  concluding  in  a 
smack,  which,  though  audible,  was  not  so  much  so  as  to 
be  unpleasing. 

"  Talking  of  alleged  spuriousness  of  wines,"  said  he, 
tranquilly  setting  down  his  glass,  and  then  sloping  back 
his  head  and  with  friendly  fixedness  eying  the  wine, 
"  perhaps  the  strangest  part  of  those  allegings  is,  that 
there  is,  as  claimed,  a  kind  of  man  who,  while  convinced 
that  on  this  continent  most  wines  are  shams,  yet  still 
drinks  away  at  them ;  accounting  wine  so  fine  a  thing, 
that  even  the  sham  article  is  better  than  none  at  all.  And 
if  the  temperance  people  urge  that,  by  this  course,  he 
will  sooner  or  later  be  undermined  in  health,  he  answers, 
1  And  do  you  think  I  don't  know  that?  But  health 


254  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

without  cheer  I  hold  a  bore ;  and  cheer,  even  of  the 
spurious  sort,  has  its  price,  which  I  am  willing  to 
pay.'" 

"  Such  a  man,  Frank,  must  have  a  disposition  ungov 
ernably  bacchanalian." 

"  Yes,  if  such  a  man  there  be,  which  I  don't  credit. 
It  is  a  fable,  but  a  fable  from  which  I  once  heard  a  per 
son  of  less  genius  than  grotesqueness  draw  a  moral  even 
more  extravagant  than  the  fable  itself.  He  said  that  it 
illustrated,  as  in  a  parable,  how  that  a  man  of  a  disposi 
tion  ungovernably  good-natured  might  still  familiarly 
associate  with  men,  though,  at  the  same  time,  he  believed 
the  greater  part  of  men  false-hearted — accounting  so 
ciety  so  sweet  a  thing  that  even  the  spurious  sort  was 
better  than  none  at  all.  And  if  the  Rochefoucaultites 
urge  that,  by  this  course,  he  will  sooner  or  later  be  un 
dermined  in  security,  he  answers,  '  And  do  you  think  I 
don't  know  that  ?  But  security  without  society  I  hold 
a  bore ;  and  society,  even  of  the  spurious  sort,  has  its 
price,  which  I  am  willing  to  pay.'  " 

"  A  most  singular  theory,"  said  the  stranger  with  a 
slight  fidget,  eying  his  companion  with  some  inquisitive- 
ness,  "  indeed,  Frank,  a  most  slanderous  thought,"  he 
exclaimed  in  sudden  heat  and  with  an  involuntary  look 
almost  of  being  personally  aggrieved. 

"In  one  sense  it  merits  all  you  say,  and  more,"  re 
joined  the  other  with  wonted  mildness,  "  but,  for  a  kind 
of  drollery  in  it,  charity  might,  perhaps,  overlook  some 
thing  of  the  wickedness.  Humor  is,  in  fact,  so  blessed  a 
thing,  that  even  in  the  least  virtuous  product  of  the 


THE      BOON      COMPANIONS.  255 

human  mind,  if  there  can  be  found  but  nine  good  jokes, 
some  philosophers  are  clement  enough  to  affirm  that 
those  nine  good  jokes  should  redeem  all  the  wicked 
thoughts,  though  plenty  as  the  populace  of  Sodom.  At 
any  rate,  this  same  humor  has  something,  there  is  no 
telling  what,  of  beneficence  in  it,  it  is  such  a  catholicon 
and  charm — nearly  all  men  agreeing  in  relishing  it, 
though  they  may  agree  in  little  else — and  in  its  way  it 
undeniably  does  such  a  deal  of  familiar  good  in  the 
world,  that  no  wonder  it  is  almost  a  proverb,  that  a  man 
of  humor,  a  man  capable  of  a  good  loud  laugh — seem 
how  he  may  in  other  things — can  hardly  be  a  heartless 
scamp." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  other,  pointing  to  the 
figure  of  a  pale  pauper-boy  on  the  deck  below,  whose 
pitiableness  was  touched,  as  it  were,  with  ludicrousness 
by  a  pair  of  monstrous  boots,  apparently  some  mason's 
discarded  ones,  cracked  with  drouth,  half  eaten  by  lime, 
and  curled  up  about  the  toe  like  a  bassoon.  "Look — 
ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"  I  see,"  said  the  other,  with  what  seemed  quiet  ap 
preciation,  but  of  a  kind  expressing  an  eye  to  the  gro 
tesque,  without  blindness  to  what  in  this  case  accompa 
nied  it,  "I  see;  and  the  way  in  which  it  moves  you, 
Charlie,  comes  in  very  apropos  to  point  the  proverb  I 
was  speaking  of.  Indeed,  had  you  intended  this  effect, 
it  could  not  have  been  more  so.  For  who  that  heard 
that  laugh,  but  would  as  naturally  argue  from  it  a 
sound  heart  as  sound  lungs  ?  True,  it  is  said  that  a 
man  may  smile,  and  smile,  and  smile,  and  be  a  villain  ; 


256"  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

but  it  is  not  said  that  a  man  may  laugh,  and  laugh,  and 
laugh,  and  be  one,  is  it,  Charlie  ?" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha! — no  no,  no  no." 

"Why  Charlie,  your  explosions  illustrate  my  remarks 
almost  as  aptly  as  the  chemist's  imitation  volcano  did 
his  lectures.  But  even  if  experience  did  not  sanction 
the  proverb,  that  a  good  laugher  cannot  be  a  bad  man,  I 
should  yet  feel  bound  in  confidence  to  believe  it,  since 
it  is  a  saying  current  among  the  people,  and  I  doubt 
not  originated  among  them,  and  hence  must  be  true  ;  for 
the  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice  of  truth.  Don't 
you  think  so?" 

"  Of  course  I  do.  If  Truth  don't  speak  through  the 
people,  it  never  speaks  at  all;  so  I  heard  one  say." 

"  A  true  saying.  But  we  stray.  The  popular  notion 
of  humor,  considered  as  index  to  the  heart,  would  seem 
curiously  confirmed  by  Aristotle — I  think,  in  his  "Poli 
tics,"  (a  work,  by-the-by,  which,  however  it  may  be 
viewed  upon  the  whole,  yet,  from  the  tenor  of  certain 
sections,  should  not,  without  precaution,  be  placed  in 
the  hands  of  youth) — who  remarks  that  the  least  lovable 
men  in  history  seem  to  have  had  for  humor  not  only  a 
disrelish,  but  a  hatred;  and  this,  in  some  cases,  along 
with  an  extraordinary  dry  taste  for  practical  punning. 
I  remember  it  is  related  of  Phalaris,  the  capricious 
tyrant  of  Sicily,  that  he  once  caused  a  poor  fellow  to  be 
beheaded  on  a  horse-block,  for  no  other  cause  than  hav 
ing  a  horse-laugh." 

"Funny  Phalaris!" 

"Cruel  Phalaris!" 


THE      BOON      COMPANIONS.  257 

As  after  fire-crackers,  there  was  a  pause,  both  look 
ing  downward  on  the  table  as  if  mutually  struck  by  the 
contrast  of  exclamations,  and  pondering  upon  its  signi 
ficance,  if  any.  So,  at  least,  it  seemed  ;  but  on  one  side 
it  might  have  been  otherwise  :  for  presently  glancing  up, 
the  cosmopolitan  said  :  "  In  the  instance  of  the  moral, 
drolly  cynic,  drawn  from  the  queer  bacchanalian  fellow 
we  were  speaking  of,  who  had  his  reasons  for  still  drink 
ing  spurious  wine,  though  knowing  it  to  be  such — there, 
I  say,  we  have  an  example  of  what  is  certainly  a  wicked 
thought,  but  conceived  in  humor.  I  will  now  give  you 
one  of  a  wicked  thought  conceived  in  wickedness.  You 
shall  compare  the  two,  and  answer,  whether  in  fhe  one 
case  the  sting  is  not  neutralized  by  the  humor,  and 
whether  in  the  other  the  absence  of  humor  does  not 
leave  the  sting  free  play.  I  once  heard  a  wit,  a  mere 
wit,  mind,  an  irreligious  Parisian  wit,  say,  with  regard 
to  the  temperance  movement,  that  none,  to  their  per 
sonal  benefit,  joined  it  sooner  than  niggards  and  knaves  ; 
because,  as  he  affirmed,  the  one  by  it  saved  money  and 
the  other  made  money,  as  in  ship-owners  cutting  off 
the  spirit  ration  without  giving  its  equivalent,  and 
gamblers  and  all  sorts  of  subtle  tricksters  sticking  to 
cold  water,  the  better  to  keep  a  cool  head  for  business." 

"  A  wicked  thought,  indeed  !"  cried  the  stranger, 
feelingly. 

"  Yes,"  leaning  over  the  table  on  his  elbow  and  geni 
ally  gesturing  at  him  with  his  forefinger  :  "  yes,  and,  as 
I  said,  you  don't  remark  the  sting  of  it  ?" 

"  I  do,  indeed.     Most  calumnious  thought,  Frank  !" 


258  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"No  humor  in  it?" 

"Not  a  bit!" 

"  Well  now,  Charlie,"  eying  him  with  moist  regard, 
"  let  us  drink.  It  appears  to  me  you  don't  drink 
freely." 

"  Oh,  oh — indeed,  indeed — I  am  not  backward  there. 
I  protest,  a  freer  drinker  than  friend  Charlie  you  will 
find  nowhere,"  with  feverish  zeal  snatching  his  glass, 
but  only  in  the  sequel  to  dally  with  it.  "  By-the-way, 
Frank,"  said  he,  perhaps,  or  perhaps  not,  to  draw  atten 
tion  from  himself,  "  by-the-way,  I  saw  a  good  thing 
the  other  day  ;  capital  thing ;  a  panegyric  on  the  press. 
It  pleased  me  so,  I  got  it  by  heart  at  two  readings.  It 
is  a  kind  of  poetry,  but  in  a  form  which  stands  in  some 
thing  the  same  relation  to  blank  verse  which  that  does 
to  rhyme.  A  sort  of  free-and-easy  chant  with  refrains 
to  it.  Shall  I  recite  it  ?" 

"  Anything  in  praise  of  the  press  I  shall  be  happy  to 
hear,"  rejoined  the  cosmopolitan,  "  the  more  so,"  he 
gravely  proceeded,  "  as  of  late  I  have  observed  in  some 
quarters  a  disposition  to  disparage  the  press." 

"  Disparage  the  press  ?" 

"  Even  so ;  some  gloomy  souls  affirming  that  it  is 
proving  with  that  great  invention  as  with  brandy  or 
eau-de-vie,  which,  upon  its  first  discovery,  was  believed 
by  the  doctors  to  be,  as  its  French  name  implies,  a  pana 
cea — a  notion  which  experience,  it  may  be  thought, 
has  not  fully  verified." 

"  You  surprise  me,  Frank.  Are  there  really  those  who 
so  decry  the  press  ?  Tell  me  more.  Their  reasons." 


THE      BOON      COMPANIONS.  259 

"  Keasoris  they  have  none,  but  affirmations  they  have 
many ;  among  other  things  affirming  that,  while  under 
dynastic  despotisms,  the  press  is  to  the  people  little  but 
an  improvisatore,  under  popular  ones  it  is  too  apt  to  be 
their  Jack  Cade.  In  fine,  these  sour  sages  regard  the 
press  in  the  light  of  a  Colt's  revolver,  pledged  to  no 
cause  but  his  in  whose  chance  hands  it  may  be  ;  deem 
ing  the  one  invention  an  improvement  upon  the  pen, 
much  akin  to  what  the  other  is  upon  the  pistol ;  involv 
ing,  along  with  the  multiplication  of  the  barrel,  no  con 
secration  of  the  aim.  The  term  '  freedom  of  the  press' 
they  consider  on  a  par  with  freedom  of  Colt's  revolver. 
Hence,  for  truth  and  the  right,  they  hold,  to  indulge 
hopes  from  the  one  is  little  more  sensible  than  for  Kos- 
suth  and  Mazzini  to  indulge  hopes  from  the  other. 
Heart-breaking  views  enough,  you  think;  but  their 
refutation  is  in  every  true  reformer's  contempt.  Is  it 
not  so  r 

"  Without  doubt.  But  go  on,  go  on.  I  like  to  hear 
you,"  flatteringly  brimming  up  his  glass  for  him. 

"  For  one,"  continued  the  cosmopolitan,  grandly 
swelling  his  chest,  "  I  hold  the  press  to  be  neither  the 
people's  improvisatore,  nor  Jack  Cade  ;  neither  their 
paid  fool,  nor  conceited  drudge.  I  think  interest  never 
prevails  with  it  over  duty.  The  press  still  speaks  for 
truth  though  impaled,  in  the  teeth  of  lies  though  in 
trenched.  Disdaining  for  it  the  poor  name  of  cheap 
diffuser  of  news,  I  claim  for  it  the  independent  apostle- 
ship  of  Advancer  of  Knowledge  : — the  iron  Paul ! 
Paul,  I  say  ;  for  not  only  does  the  press  advance  know- 


260  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

ledge,  but  righteousness.  In  the  press,  as  in  the  sun, 
resides,  my  dear  Charlie,  a  dedicated  principle  of  bene 
ficent  force  and  light.  For  the  Satanic  press,  by  its 
coappearance  with  the  apostolic,  it  is  no  more  an  as 
persion  to  that,  than  to  the  true  sun  is  the  coappearance 
of  the  mock  one.  For  all  the  baleful-looking  parhelion, 
god  Apollo  dispenses  the  day.  In  a  word,  Charlie,  what 
the  sovereign  of  England  is  titularly,  I  hold  the  press  to 
be  actually — Defender  of  the  Faith  ! — defender  of  the 
faith  in  the  final  triumph  of  truth  over  error,  metaphy 
sics  over  superstition,  theory  over  falsehood,  machinery 
over  nature,  and  the  good  man  over  the  bad.  Such  are 
my  views,  which,  if  stated  at  some  length,  you,  Charlie, 
must  pardon,  for  it  is  a  theme  upon  which  I  cannot 
speak  with  cold  brevity.  And  now  I  am  impatient  for 
your  panegyric,  which,  I  doubt  not,  will  put  mine  to 
the  blush." 

"  It  is  rather  in  the  blush-giving  vein,"  smiled  the 
other ;  "  but  such  as  it  is,  Frank,  you  shall  have  it." 

"  Tell  me  when  you  are  about  to  begin,"  said  the 
cosmopolitan,  "  for,  when  at  public  dinners  the  press  is 
toasted,  I  always  drink  the  toast  standing,  and  shall 
stand  while  you  pronounce  the  panegyric." 

"Very  good,  Frank ;  you  may  stand  up  now." 

He  accordingly  did  so,  when  the  stranger  likewise 
rose,  and  uplifting  the  ruby  wine-flask,  began. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

OPENING   WITH   A   POETICAL     EULOGY     OF     THE     PRESS     AND     CONTINUING 
WITH    TALK    INSPIRED    BY    THE    SAME. 

"  *  Praise  be  unto  the  press,  not  Faust's,  but  Noah's; 
let  us  extol  and  magnify  the  press,  the  true  press  of 
Noah,  from  which  breaketh  the  true  morning.  Praise 
be  unto  the  press,  not  the  black  press  but  the  red  ; 
let  us  extol  and  magnify  the  press,  the  red  press  of  Noah, 
from  which  cometh  inspiration.  Ye  pressmen  of  the 
Rhineland  and  the  Rhine,  join  in  with  all  ye  who  tread 
out  the  glad  tidings  on  isle  Madeira  or  Mitylene. — Who 
giveth  redness  of  eyes  by  making  men  long  to  tarry  at 
the  fine  print  ? — Praise  be  unto  the  press,  the  rosy  press 
of  Noah,  which  giveth  rosiness  of  hearts,  by  making  men 
long  to  tarry  at  the  rosy  wine. — Who  hath  babblings  and 
contentions?  Who,  without  cause,  inflicteth  wounds? 
Praise  be  unto  the  press,  the  kindly  press  of  Noah, 
which  knitteth  friends,  which  fuseth  foes. — Who  may  be 
bribed? — Who  may  be  bound  ? — Praise  be  unto  the  press, 
the  free  press  of  Noah,  which  will  not  lie  for  tyrants, 
but  make  tyrants  speak  the  truth. — Then  praise  be  unto 
the  press,  the  frank  old  press  of  Noah ;  then  let  us 
extol  and  magnify  the  press,  the  brave  old  press  of  Noah  ; 


262  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

then  let  us  with  roses  garland  and  enwreath  the  press, 
the  grand  old  press  of  Noah,  from  which  flow  streams  of 
knowledge  which  give  man  a  bliss  no  more  unreal  than 
his  pain/  " 

"You  deceived  me,"  smiled  the.cosmopolitan,  as  both 
now  resumed  their  seats ;  "  you  roguishly  took  advantage 
of  my  simplicity ;  you  archly  played  upon  my  enthusiasm. 
But  never  mind ;  the  offense,  if  any,  was  so  charming, 
I  almost  wish  you  would  offend  again.  As  for  certain 
poetic  left-handers  in  your  panegyric,  those  I  cheerfully 
concede  to  the  indefinite  privileges  of  the  poet.  Upon 
the  whole,  it  was  quite  in  the  lyric  style — a  style  I  always 
admire  on  account  of  that  spirit  of  Sibyllic  confidence 
and  assurance  which  is,  perhaps,  its  prime  ingredient. 
But  come,"  glancing  at  his  companion's  glass,  "fora 
lyrist,  you  let  the  bottle  stay  with  you  too  long." 

"  The  lyre  and  the  vine  forever !"  cried  the  other  in 
his  rapture,  or  what  seemed  such,  heedless  of  the  hint, 
"  the  vine,  the  vine !  is  it  not  the  most  graceful  and 
bounteous  of  all  growths  ?  And,  by  its  being  such,  is 
not  something  meant — divinely  meant  ?  As  I  live,  a 
vine,  a  Catawba  vine,  shall  be  planted  on  my  grave ! 

"  A  genial  thought ;  but  your  glass  there." 

"  Oh,  oh,"  taking  a  moderate  sip,  "  but  you,  why  don't 
you  drink  ?" 

"  You  have  forgotten,  my  dear  Charlie,  what  I  told 
you  of  my  previous  convivialities  to-day." 

"  Oh,"  cried  the  other,  now  in  manner  quite  abandoned 
to  the  lyric  mood,  not  without  contrast  to  the  easy 
sociability  of  his  companion.  "  Oh,  one  can't  drink  too 


POETICAL     EULOGY     OF     THE     PRESS.       263 

much  of  good  old  wine — the  genuine,  mellow  old  port. 
Pooh,  pooh  !  drink  away." 

"  Then  keep  me  company." 

"  Of  course,"  with  a  flourish,  taking  another  sip — 
"  suppose  we  have  cigars.  Never  mind  your  pipe  there  ; 
a  pipe  is  best  when  alone.  I  say,  waiter,  bring  some 
cigars — your  best." 

They  were  brought  in  a  pretty  little  bit  of  western 
pottery,  representing  some  kind  of  Indian  utensil,  mum 
my-colored,  set  down  in  a  mass  of  tobacco  leaves,  whose 
long,  green  fans,  fancifully  grouped,  formed  with  peeps 
of  red  the  sides  of  the  receptacle. 

Accompanying  it  were  two  accessories,  also  bits  of 
pottery,  but  smaller,  both  globes ;  one  in  guise  of  an 
apple  flushed  with  red  and  gold  to  the  life,  and,  through 
a  cleft  at  top,  you  saw  it  was  hollow.  This  was  for  the 
ashes.  The  other,  gray,  with  wrinkled  surface,  in  the 
likeness  of  a  wasp's  nest,  was  the  match-box. 

"  There,"  said  the  stranger,  pushing  over  the  cigar- 
stand,  uhelp  yourself,  and  I  will  touch  you  off,"  taking 
a  match.  "Nothing  like  tobacco,"  he  added,  when  the 
fumes  of  the  cigar  began  to  wreathe,  glancing  from  the 
smoker  to  the  pottery,  "  I  will  have  a  Virginia  tobacco- 
plant  set  over  my  grave  beside  the  Catawba  vine." 

"  Improvement  upon  your  first  idea,  which  by  itself 
was  good — but  you  don't  smoke." 

"  Presently,  presently — let  me  fill  your  glass  again. 
You  don't  drink." 

"  Thank  you ;  but  no  more  just  now.  Fill  your 
glass.'' 


264  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

" Presently,  presently;  do  you  drink  on.  Never 
mind  me.  Now  that  it  strikes  me,  let  me  say,  that  he 
who,  out  of  superfine  gentility  or  fanatic  morality, 
denies  himself  tobacco,  suffers  a  more  serious  abatement 
in  the  cheap  pleasures  of  life  than  the  dandy  in  his  iron 
boot,  or  the  celibate  on  his  iron  cot.  While  for  him 
who  would  fain  revel  in  tobacco,  but  cannot,  it  is  a  thing 
at  which  philanthropists  must  weep,  to  see  such  an  one, 
again  and  again,  madly  returning  to  the  cigar,  which, 
for  his  incompetent  stomach,  he  cannot  enjoy,  while 
still,  after  each  shameful  repulse,  the  sweet  dream  of 
the  impossible  good  goads  him  on  to  his  fierce  misery 
once  more — poor  eunuch  !" 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  still  gravely 
social,  "  but  you  don't  smoke." 

*' Presently,  presently,  do  you  smoke  on.  As  I  was 
saying  about — " 

"  But  why  don't  you  smoke — come.  You  don't  think 
that  tobacco,  when  in  league  with  wine,  too  much  en 
hances  the  latter's  vinous  quality — in  short,  with  certain 
constitutions  tends  to  impair  self-possession,  do  you?" 

"  To  think  that,  were  treason  to  good  fellowship," 
was  the  warm  disclaimer.  "No,  no.  But  the  fact  is, 
there  is  an  unpropitious  flavor  in  my  mouth  just  now. 
Ate  of  a  diabolical  ragout  at  dinner,  so  I  shan't  smoke 
till  I  have  washed  away  the  lingering  memento  of  it 
with  wine.  But  smoke  away,  you,  and  pray,  don't 
forget  to  drink.  By-the-way,  while  we  sit  here  so 
companionably,  giving  loose  to  any  companionable 
nothing,  your  uncompanionable  friend,  Coonskins,  is,  by 


POETICAL,     EULOGY     OF     THE     PRESS.       265 

pure  contrast,  brought' to  recollection.  If  he  were  but 
here  now,  he  would  see  how  much  of  real  heart-joy  he 
denies  himself  by  not  hob-a-nobbing  with  his  kind." 

"  Why,"  with  loitering  emphasis,  slowly  withdrawing 
his  cigar,  "  I  thought  I  had  undeceived  you  there.  I 
thought  you  had  come  to  a  better  understanding  of  my 
eccentric  friend." 

"Well,  I  thought  so,  too;  but  first  impressions  will 
return,  you  know.  In  truth,  now  that  I  think  of  it,  I 
am  led  to  conjecture  from  chance  things  which  dropped 
from  Coonskins,  during  the  little  interview  I  had  with 
him,  that  he  is  not  a  Missourian  by  birth,  but  years  ago 
came  West  here,  a  young  misanthrope  from  the  other 
side  of  the  Alleghanies,  less  to  make  his  fortune,  than  to 
flee  man.  Now,  since  they  say  trifles  sometimes  effect 
great  results,  I  shouldn't  wonder,  if  his  history  were 
probed,  it  would  be  found  that  what  first  indirectly  gave 
his  sad  bias  to  Coonskins  was  his  disgust  at  reading  in  boy 
hood  the  advice  of  Polonius  to  Laertes — advice  which,  in 
the  selfishness  it  inculcates,  is  almost  on  a  par  with  a  sort 
of  ballad  upon  the  economies  of  money-making,  to  be 
occasionally  seen  pasted  against  the  desk  of  small  retail 
traders  in  New  England." 

"  I  do  hope  now,  my  dear  fellew,"  said  the  cosmopoli 
tan  with  an  air  of  bland  protest,  "  that,  in  my  presence 
at  least,  you  will  throw  out  nothing  to  the  prejudice  of 
the  sons  of  the  Puritans." 

"  Hey-day  and  high  times  indeed,"  exclaimed  the 
other,  nettled,  "  sons  of  the  Puritans  forsooth  !  And 

who  be  Puritans,  that  I,  an  Alabamaian,  must  do  them 

12 


266  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

reverence  ?  A  set  of  sourly  conceited  old  Malvolios, 
whom  Shakespeare  laughs  his  fill  at  in  his  come 
dies." 

"Pray,  what  were  you  about  to  suggest  with  regard 
to  Polonius,"  observed  the  cosmopolitan  with  quiet  for 
bearance,  expressive  of  the  patience  of  a  superior  mind 
at  the  petulance  of  an  inferior  one  ;  "  how  do  you  char 
acterize  his  advice  to  Laertes  ?" 

"  As  false,  fatal,  and  calumnious,"  exclaimed  the  other, 
with  a  degree  of  ardor  befitting  one  resenting  a  stigma 
upon  the  family  escutcheon,  "and  for  a  father  to  give 
his  son — monstrous.  The  case  you  see  is  this  :  The  son 
is  going  abroad,  and  for  the  first.  What  does  the  father  ? 
Invoke  God's  blessing  upon  him  ?  Put  the  blessed  Bible 
in  his  trunk  ?  No.  Crams  him  with  maxims  smacking 
of  my  Lord  Chesterfield,  with  maxims  of  France,  with 
maxims  of  Italy." 

"  No,  no,  be  charitable,  not  that.  Why,  does  he  not 
among  other  things  say : — 

'  The  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hooks  of  steel'  ? 

Is  that  compatible  with  maxims  of  Italy  ?" 

"Yes  it  is,  Frank.  Don't  you  see?  Laertes  is  to 
take  the  best  of  care  of  his  friends — his  proved  friends, 
on  the  same  principal  that  a  wine-corker  takes  the  best 
of  care  of  his  proved  bottles.  When  a  bottle  gets  a 
sharp  knock  and  don't  break,  he  says,  '  Ah,  I'll  keep  that 
bottle.'  Why  ?  Because  he  loves  it  ?  No,  he  has  par 
ticular  use  for  it." 


POETICAL     EULOGY     OF      THE     PRESS.       267 

"  Dear,' dear  !"  appealingly  turning  in  distress,  "  that 
— that  kind  of  criticism  is — is — in  fact — it  won't  do." 

"  Won't  truth  do,  Frank  ?  You  are  so  charitable  with 
everybody,  do  but  consider  the  tone  of  the  speech. 
Now  I  put  it  to  you,  Frank ;  is  there  anything  in  it 
hortatory  to  high,  heroic,  disinterested  effort?  Any 
thing  like  '  sell  all  thou  hast  and  give  to  the  poor  ?'  And, 
in  other  points,  what  desire  seems  most  in  the  father's 
mind,  that  his  son  should  cherish  nobleness  for  himself, 
or  be  on  his  guard  against  the  contrary  thing  in  others  ? 
An  irreligious  warner,  Frank — no  devout  counselor,  is 
Polonius.  I  hate  him.  Nor  can  I  bear  to  hear  your 
veterans  of  the  world  affirm,  that  he  who  steers  through 
life  by  the  advice  of  old  Polonius  will  not  steer  among 
the  breakers." 

"No,  no — I  hope  nobody  affirms  that,"  rejoined  the 
cosmopolitan,  with  tranquil  abandonment ;  sideways  re 
posing  his  arm  at  full  length  upon  the  table.  "  I  hope 
nobody  affirms  that ;  because,  if  Polonius'  advice  be 
taken  in  your  sense,  then  the  recommendation  of  it  by 
men  of  experience  would  appear  to  involve  more  or  less 
of  an  unhandsome  sort  of  reflection  upon  human  nature. 
And  yet,"  with  a  perplexed  air,  "  your  suggestions  have 
put  things  in  such  a  strange  light  to  me  as  in  fact  a 
little  to  disturb  my  previous  notions  of  Polonius  and 
what  he  says.  To  be  frank,  by  your  ingenuity  you  have 
unsettled  me  there,  to  that  degree  that  were  it  not  for 
our  coincidence  of  opinion  in  general,  I  should  almost 
think  I  was  now  at  length  beginning  to  feel  the  ill  effect 
of  an  immature  mind,  too  much  consorting  with  a 


268  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

mature  one,  except  on  the  ground  of  first  principles  in 
common." 

"  Really  and  truly,"  cried  the  other  with  a  kind  of 
tickled  modesty  and  pleased  concern,  "  mine  is  an  under 
standing  too  weak  to  throw  out  grapnels  and  hug  an 
other  to  it.  I  have  indeed  heard  of  some  great  scholars 
in  these  days,  whose  boast  is  less  that  they  have  made 
disciples  than  victims.  But  for  me,  had  I  the  power  to 
do  such  things,  I  have  not  the  heart  to  desire." 

"  I  believe  you,  my  dear  Charlie.  And  yet,  I  repeat, 
by  your  commentaries  on  Polonius  you  have,  I  know 
not  how,  unsettled  me ;  so  that  now  I  don't  exactly  see 
how  Shakespeare  meant  the  words  he  puts  in  Polonius' 
mouth." 

"  Some  say  that  he  meant  them  to  open  people's  eyes ; 
but  I  don't  think  so." 

"  Open  their  eyes  ?"  echoed  the  cosmopolitan,  slowly 
expanding  his;  "what  is  there  in  this  world  for  one  to 
open  his  eyes  to?  I  mean  in  the  sort  of  invidious  sense 
you  cite?" 

"Well,  others  say  he  meant  to  corrupt  people's  mor 
als  ;  and  still  others,  that  he  had  no  express  intention  at 
all,  but  in  effect  opens  their  eyes  and  corrupts  their 
morals  in  one  operation.  All  of  which  I  reject." 

"  Of  course  you  reject  so  crude  an  hypothesis ;  and  yet, 
to  confess,  in  reading  Shakespeare  in  my  closet,  struck 
by  some  passage,  I  have  laid  down  the  volume,  and  said  : 
'  This  Shakespeare  is  a  queer  man.'  At  times  seeming 
irresponsible,  he  does  not  always  seem  reliable.  There 
appears  to  be  a  certain — what  shall  I  call  it? — hidden 


POETICAL     EULOGY     OF     THE     TRESS.       269 

sun,  say,  about  him,  at  once  enlightening  and  mystify 
ing.  Now,  I  should  be  afraid  to  say  what  I  have  some 
times  thought  that  hidden  sun  might  be." 

"  Do  you  think  it  was  the  true  light?"  with  clan 
destine  geniality  again  filling  the  other's  glass. 

"  I  would  prefer  to  decline  answering  a  categorical 
question  there.  Shakespeare  has  got  to  be  a  kind  of 
deity.  Prudent  minds,  having  certain  latent  thoughts 
concerning  him,  will  reserve  them  in  a  condition  of  last 
ing  probation.  Still,  as  touching  avowable  speculations, 
we  are  permitted  a  tether.  Shakespeare  himself  is  to  be 
adored,  not  arraigned ;  but,  so  we  do  it  with  humility,  we 
may  a  little  canvass  his  characters.  There's  his  Autoly- 
cus  now,  a  fellow  that  always  puzzled  me.  How  is  one 
to  take  Autolycus?  A  rogue  so  happy,  so  lucky,  so 
triumphant,  of  so  almost  captivatingly  vicious  a  career 
that  a  virtuous  man  reduced  to  the  poor-house  (were 
such  a  contingency  conceivable),  might  almost  long  to 
change  sides  with  him.  And  yet,  see  the  words  put  into 
his  mouth  :  '  Oh,'  cries  Autolycus,  as  he  comes  galloping, 
gay  as  a  buck,  upon  the  stage,  '  oh,'  he  laughs,  '  oh  what 
a  fool  is  Honesty,  and  Trust,  his  sworn  brother,  a  very 
simple  gentleman.'  Think  of  that.  Trust,  that  is,  confi 
dence — that  is,  the  thing  in  this  universe  the  sacredest — 
is  rattlingly  pronounced  just  the  simplest.  And  the 
scenes  in  which  the  rogue  figures  seem  purposely  de 
vised  for  verification  of  his  principles.  Mind,  Charlie,  I 
do  not  say  it  is  so,  far  from  it ;  but  I  do  say  it  seems  so. 
Yes,  Autolycus  would  seem  a  needy  varlet  acting  upon 
the  persuasion  that  less  is  to  be  got  by  invoking  pockets 


270  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

than  picking  them,  more  to  be  made  by  an  expert  knave 
than  a  bungling  beggar ;  and  for  this  reason,  as  he 
thinks,  that  the  soft  heads  outnumber  the  soft  hearts. 
The  devil's  drilled  recruit,  Autolycus  is  joyous  as  if  he 
wore  the  livery  of  heaven.  When  disturbed  by  the 
character  and  career  of  one  thus  wicked  and  thus  happy, 
my  sole  consolation  is  in  the  fact  that  no  such  creature 
ever  existed,  except  in  the  powerful  imagination  which 
evoked  him.  And  yet,  a  creature,  a  living  creature,  he 
is,  though  only  a  poet  was  his  maker.  It  may  be,  that 
in  that  paper-and-ink  investiture  of  his,  Autolycus  acts 
more  effectively  upon  mankind  than  he  would  in  a  flesh- 
and-blood  one.  Can  his  influence  be  salutary?  True, 
in  Autolycus  there  is  humor;  but  though,  according  to 
my  principle,  humor  is  in  general  to  be  held  a  saving 
quality,  yet  the  case  of  Autolycus  is  an  exception ; 
because  it  is  his  humor  which,  so  to  speak,  oils  his 
mischievousness.  The  bravadoing  mischievousness  of 
Autolycus  is  slid  into  the  world  on  humor,  as  a  pirate 
schooner,  with  colors  flying,  is  launched  into  the  sea  on 
greased  ways." 

"  I  approve  of  Autolycus  as  little  as  you,"  said  the 
stranger,  who,  during  his  companion's  commonplaces, 
had  seemed  less  attentive  to  them  than  to  maturing  with 
in  his  own  mind  the  original  conceptions  destined  to 
eclipse  them.  "  But  I  cannot  believe  that  Autolycus, 
mischievous  as  he  must  prove  upon  the  stage,  can  be 
near  so  much  so  as  such  a  character  as  Polonius." 

"I  don't  know   about  that,"   bluntly,  and  yet   not 
impolitely,  returned  the  cosmopolitan ;  "  to  be  sure,  ac- 


POETICAL     EULOGY     OF     THE     PRESS.       271 

cepting  your  view  of  the  old  courtier,  then  if  between 
him  and  Autolycus  you  raise  the  question  of  unprepos- 
sessingness,  I  grant  you  the  latter  comes  off  best.  For  a 
moist  rogue  may  tickle  the  midriff,  while  a  dry  worldling 
may  but  wrinkle  the  spleen." 

"  But  Polonius  is  not  dry,"  said  the  other  excitedly ; 
"  he  drules.  One  sees  the  fly-blown  old  fop  drule  and 
look  wise.  His  vile  wisdom  is  made  the  viler  by  his 
vile  rheuminess.  The  bowing  and  cringing,  time-serving 
old  sinner — is  such  an  one  to  give  manly  precepts  to 
youth  ?  The  discreet,  decorous,  old  dotard-of-state  ; 
senile  prudence ;  fatuous  soullessriess !  The  ribanded 
old  dog  is  paralytic  all  down  one  side,  and  that  the  side 
of  nobleness.  His  soul  is  gone  out.  Only  nature's  au- 
tomatonism  keeps  him  on  his  legs.  As  with  some  old 
trees,  the  bark  survives  the  pith,  and  will  still  stand 
stiffly  up,  though  but  to  rim  round  punk,  so  the  body 
of  old  Polonius  has  outlived  his  soul." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  cosmopolitan  with  serious  air, 
almost  displeased  ;  "though  I  yield  to  none  in  admiration 
of  earnestness,  yet,  I  think,  even  earnestness  may  have 
limits.  To  human  minds,  strong  language  is  always 
more  or  less  distressing.  Besides,  Polonius  is  an  old 
man — as  I  remember  him  upon  the  stage — with  snowy 
locks.  Now  charity  requires  that  such  a  figure — think 
of  it  how  you  will — should  at  least  be  treated  with 
civility.  Moreover,  old  age  is  ripeness,  and  I  once 
heard  say,  '  Better  ripe  than  raw.'  " 

"  But  not  be.tter  rotten  than  raw  !"  bringing  down  his 
hand  with  energy  on  the  table. 


272  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  Why,  bless  me,"  in  mild  surprise  contemplating  his 
heated  comrade,  "  how  you  fly  out  against  this  unfortu 
nate  Polonius — a  being  that  never  was,  nor  will  be. 
And  yet,  viewed  in  a  Christian  light,"  he  added  pensive 
ly,  "  I  don't  know  that  anger  against  this  man  of  straw 
is  a  whit  less  wise  than  anger  against  a  man  of  flesh, 
Madness,  to  be  mad  with  anything." 

"  That  may  be,  or  may  not  be,"  returned  the  other,  a 
little  testily,  perhaps;  "but  I  stick  to  what  I  said,  that 
it  is  better  to  be  raw  than  rotten.  And  what  is  to  be 
feared  on  that  head,  may  be  known  from  this :  that  it  is 
with  the  best  of  hearts  as  with  the  best  of  pears — a  dan 
gerous  experiment  to  linger  too  long  upon  the  scene. 
This  did  Polonius.  Thank  fortune,  Frank,  lam  young, 
every  tooth  sound  in  my  head,  and  if  good  wine  can 
keep  me  where  I  am,  long  shall  I  remain  so." 

"  True,"  with  a  smile.  "  But  wine,  to  do  good,  must 
be  drunk.  You  have  talked  much  and  well,  Charlie ; 
but  drunk  little  and  indifferently — fill  up." 

"  Presently,  presently,"  with  a  hasty  and  preoccupied 
air.  "  If  I  remember  right,  Polonius  hints  as  much  as 
that  one  should,  under  no  circumstances,  commit  the  in 
discretion  of  aiding  in  a  pecuniary  way  an  unfortunate 
friend.  He  drules  out  some  stale  stuff  about  '  loan  losing 
both  itself  and  friend,'  don't  he  ?  But  our  bottle  ;  is  it 
glued  fast  ?  Keep  ifr  moving,  my  dear  Frank.  Good 
wine,  and  upon  my  soul  I  begin  to  feel  it,  and  through 
me  old  Polonius — yes,  this  wine,  I  fear,  is  what  excites 
me  so  against  that  detestable  old  dog  without  a  tooth." 

Upon  this,  the  cosmopolitan,  cigar  in  mouth,  slowly 


POETICAL     EULOGY     OF     THE     PRESS.       273 

raised  the  bottle,  and  brought  it  slowly  to  the  light, 
looking  at  it  steadfastly,  as  one  might  at  a  thermometer 
in  August,  to  see  not  how  low  it  was.  but  how  high. 
Then  whiffing  out  a  puff,  set  it  down,  and  said  :  "  Well, 
Charlie,  if  what  wine  you  have  drunk  came  out  of  this 
bottle,  in  that  case  I  should  say  that  if — supposing  a 
case — that  if  one  fellow  had  an  object  in  getting  another 
fellow  fuddled,  and  this  fellow  to  be  fuddled  was  of 
your  capacity,  the  operation  would  be  comparatively 
inexpensive.  What  do  you  think,  Charlie  ?" 

"  Why,  I  think  I  don't  much  admire  the  supposition," 
said  Charlie,  with  a  look  of  resentment;  "it  ain't  safe, 
depend  upon  it,  Frank,  to  venture  upon  too  jocose  sup 
positions  with  one's  friends." 

"Why,  bless  you,  Frank,  my  supposition  wasn't  per 
sonal,  but  general.  You  mustn't  be  so  touchy." 

"  If  I  arn  touchy  it  is  the  wine.  Sometimes,  when  I 
freely  drink,  it  it  has  a  touchy  effect  on  me,  I  have  ob 
served." 

"  Freely  drink?  you  haven't  drunk  the  perfect  mea 
sure  of  one  glass,  yet.  While  for  me,  this  must  be  my 
fourth  or  fifth,  thanks  to  your  importunity  ;  not  to  speak 
of  all  I  drank  this  morning,  for  old  acquaintance'  sake. 
Drink,  drink  ;  you  must  drink." 

"  Oh,  I  drink  while  you  are  talking,"  laughed  the 
other ;  "  you  have  not  noticed  it,  but  I  have  drunk  my 
share.  Have  a  queer  way  I  learned  from  a  sedate  old 
uncle,  who  used  to  tip  off  his  glass  unperceived.  Do 
you  fill  up,  and  my  glass,  too.  There !  Now  away 

with  that  stump,  and  have  a  new  cigar.     Good  fellow- 
12* 


274  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

ship  forever!"  again  in  the  lyric  mood.  "Say,  Frank, 
are  we  not  men?  I  say  are  we  not  human?  Tell  me, 
w^ere  ihey  not  human  who  engendered  us,  as  before 
heaven  I  believe  they  shall  be  whom  we  shall  engender  ? 
Fill  up,  up,  up,  my  friend.  Let  the  ruby  tide  aspire, 
and  all  ruby  aspirations  with  it !  Up,  fill  up  !  Be  we 
convivial.  And  conviviality,  what  is  it  ?  The  word,  I 
mean ;  what  expresses  it  ?  A  living  together.  But 
bats  live  together,  and  did  you  ever  hear  of  convivial 
bats?" 

"  If  I  ever  did,"  observed  the  cosmopolitan,  "  it  has 
quite  slipped  my  recollection." 

"  But  why  did  you  never  hear  of  convivial  bats,  nor 
anybody  else  ?  Because  bats,  though  they  live  together, 
live  not  together  genially.  Bats  are  not  genial  souls. 
But  men  are  ;  and  how  delightful  to  think  that  the  word 
which  among  men  signifies  the  highest  pitch  of  ge 
niality,  implies,  as  indispensable  auxiliary,  the  cheery 
benediction  of  the  bottle.  Yes,  Frank,  to  live  together 
in  the  finest  sense,  we  must  drink  together.  And  so, 
what  wonder  that  he  who  loves  not  wine,  that  sober 
wretch  has  a  lean  heart — a  heart  like  a  wrung-out  old 
bluing-bag,  and  loves  not  his  kind?  Out  upon  him,  to 
the  rag-house  with  him,  hang  him — the  ungenial 
soul !" 

"  Oh,  now,  now,  can't  you  be  convivial  without  being 
censorious?  I  like  easy,  unexcited  conviviality.  For 
the  sober  man,  really,  though  for  my  part  I  naturally 
love  a  cheerful  glass,  I  will  not  prescribe  my  nature  as 
the  law  to  other  natures.  So  don't  abuse  the  sober 


POETICAL     EULOGY     OF     THE     PRESS.       275 

man.  Conviviality  is  one  good  thing,  and  sobriety  is 
another  good  thing.  So  don't  be  one-sided." 

"  Well,  if  I  am  one-sided,  it  is  the  wine.  Indeed,  in 
deed,  I  have  indulged  too  genially.  My  excitement 
upon  slight  provocation  shows  it.  But  yours  is  a 
stronger  head  ;  drink  you.  By  the  way,  talking  of  ge 
niality,  it  is  much  on  the  increase  in  these  days,  ain't 
it?" 

"It  is,  and  I  hail  the  fact.  Nothing  better  attests 
the  advance  of  the  humanitarian  spirit.  In  former  and 
less  humanitarian  ages — the  ages  of  amphitheatres  and 
gladiators — geniality  was  mostly  confined  to  the  fireside 
and  table.  But  in  our  age — the  age  of  joint-stock  com 
panies  and  free-and-easies — it  is  with  this  precious 
quality  as  with  precious  gold  in  old  Peru,  which  Pizarro 
found  making  up  the  scullion's  sauce-pot  as  the  Inca's 
crown.  Yes,  we  golden  boys,  the  moderns,  have  geni 
ality  everwhere — a  bounty  broadcast  like  noonlight." 

"True,  true;  my  sentiments  again.  Geniality  has 
invaded  each  department  and  profession.  We  have  ge 
nial  senators,  genial  authors,  genial  lecturers,  genial 
doctors,  genial  clergymen,  genial  surgeons,  and  the  next 
thing  we  shall  have  genial  hangmen." 

"  As  to  the  last-named  sort  of  person,"  said  the  cos 
mopolitan,  "  I  trust  that  the  advancing  spirit  of  geniality 
will  at  last  enable  us  to  dispense  with  him.  No  mur 
derers — no  hangmen.  And  surely,  when  the  whole 
world  shall  have  been  genialized,  it  will  be  as  out  of 
place  to  talk  of  murderers,  as  in  a  Christianized  world 
to  talk  of  sinners." 


276  THE     C  O  N  F  I  D  E  N  C  E  -  M  A  N  . 

41  To  pursue  the  thought,"  said  the  other,  "  every 
blessing  is  attended  with  some  evil,  and' — " 

"  Stay,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  "  that  may  be  better 
let  pass  for  a  loose  saying,  than  for  hopeful  doctrine." 

"Well,  assuming  the  saying's  truth,  it  would  apply 
to  the  future  supremacy  of  the  genial  spirit,  since  then 
it  will  fare  with  the  hangman  as  it  did  with  the  weaver 
when  the  spinning-jenny  whizzed  into  the  ascendant. 
Thrown  out  of  employment,  what  could  Jack  Ketch 
turn  his  hand  to  ?  Butchering  ?" 

"That  he  could  turn  his  hand  to  it  seems  probable; 
but  that,  under  the  circumstances,  it  would  be  appropri 
ate,  might  in  some  minds  admit  of  a  question.  For  one, 
I  am  inclined  to  think — and  I  trust  it  will  not  be  held 
fastidiousness — that  it  would  hardly  be  suitable  to  the 
dignity  of  our  nature,  that  an  individual,  once  employed 
in  attending  the  last  hours  of  human  unfortunates, 
should,  that  office  being  extinct,  transfer  himself  to  the 
business  of  attending  the  last  hours  of  unfortunate  cat 
tle.  I  would  suggest  that  the  individual  turn  valet — a 
vocation  to  which  he  would,  perhaps,  appear  not  wholly 
inadapted  by  his  familiar  dexterity  about  the  person.  In 
particular,  for  giving  a  finishing  tie  to  a  gentleman's 
cravat,  I  know  few  who  would,  in  all  likelihood,  be, 
from  previous  occupation,  better  fitted  than  the  profes 
sional  person  in  question." 

"Are  you  in  earnest?"  regarding  the  serene  speaker 
with  unaffected  curiosity  ;  "  are  you  really  in  earnest  ?" 

"I  trust  I  am  never  otherwise,"  was  the  mildly  earn 
est  reply  ;  "but  talking  of  the  advance  of  geniality,  I 


POETICAL     EULOGY     OF     THE     PRESS.       277 

am  not  without  hopes  that  it  will  eventually  exert  its 
influence  even  upon  so  difficult  a  subject  as  the  misan 
thrope." 

"  A  genial  misanthrope  !  I  thought  I  had  stretched 
the  rope  pretty  hard  in  talking  of  genial  hangmen.  A 
genial  misanthrope  is  no  more  conceivable  than  a  surly 
philanthropist." 

"  True,"  lightly  depositing  in  an  unbroken  little 
cylinder  the  ashes  of  his  cigar,  "true,  the  two  you 
name  are  well  opposed." 

"  Why,  you  talk  as  if  there  was  such  a  being  as  a 
surly  philanthropist."  ' 

"  I  do.  My  eccentric  friend,  whom  you  call  Coon- 
skins,  is  an  example.  Does  he  not,  as  I  explained  to 
you,  hide  under  a  surly  air  a  philanthropic  heart? 
Now,  the  genial  misanthrope,  wrhen,  in  the  process  of 
eras,  he  shall  turn  up.  will  be  the  converse  of  this  ;  un 
der  an  affable  air,  he  will  hide  a  misanthropical  heart. 
In  short,  the  genial  misanthrope  will  be  a  new  kind  of 
monster,  but  still  no  small  improvement  upon  the  origi 
nal  one,  since,  instead  of  making  faces  and  throwing 
stones  at  people,  like  that  poor  old  crazy  man,  Timon, 
he  will  take  steps,  fiddle  in  hand,  and  set  the  tickled 
world  a'  dancing.  In  a  word,  as  the  progress  of  Chris- 
tianization  mellows  those  in  manner  whom  it  cannot 
mend  in  mind,  much  the  same  will  it  prove  with  the 
progress  of  genialization.  And  so,  thanks  to  geniality, 
the  misanthrope,  reclaimed  from  his  boorish  address,  will 
take  on  refinement  and  softness — to  so  genial  a  degree, 
indeed,  that  it  may  possibly  fall  out  that  the  misanthrope 


278  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

of  the  coming  century  will  be  almost  as  popular  as,  I 
am  sincerely  sorry  to  say,  some  philanthropists  of  the 
present  time  would  seem  not  to  be,  as  witness  my  eccen 
tric  friend  named  before." 

"Well,"  cried  the  other,  a  little  weary,  perhaps,  of  a 
speculation  so  abstract,  "  well,  however  it  maybe  with 
the  century  to  come,  certainly  in  the  century  which  is, 
whatever  else  one  may  be,  he  must  be  genial  or  he  is 
nothing.  So  fill  up,  fill  up,  and  be  genial !" 

"I  am  trying  my  best,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  still 
calmly  companionable.  "A  moment  since,  we  talked 
of  Pizarro,  gold,  and  Peru;  no  d<tubt,  now,  you  remem 
ber  that  when  the  Spaniard  first  entered  Atahalpa's  trea 
sure-chamber,  and  saw  such  profusion  of  plate  stacked 
up,  right  and  left,  with  the  wantonness  of  old  barrels  in 
a  brewer's  yard,  the  needy  fellow  felt  a  twinge  of  mis 
giving,  of  want  of  confidence,  as  to  the  genuineness  of 
an  opulence  so  profuse.  He  went  about  rapping  the 
shining  vases  with  his  knuckles.  But  it  was  all  gold, 
pure  gold,  good  gold,  sterling  gold,  which  how  cheer 
fully  would  have  been  stamped  such  at  Goldsmiths' 
Hall.  And  just  so  those  needy  minds,  which,  through 
their  own  insincerity,  having  no  confidence  in  man 
kind,  doubt  lest  the  liberal  geniality  of  this  age  be  spu 
rious.  They  are  small  Pizarros  in  their  way — by  the 
very  princeliness  of  men's  geniality  stunned  into  dis 
trust  of  it." 

"  Far  be  such  distrust  from  you  and  me,  my  genial 
friend,"  cried  the  other  fervently  ;  "  fill  up,  fill  up!" 

"  Well,  this  all  along   seems  a  division   of  labor," 


POETICAL     EULOGY     OF     THE     PRESS.       279 

smiled  the"  cosmopolitan.  "  I  do  about  all  the  drinking, 
and  you  do  about  all — the  genial.  But  yours  is  a  nature 
competent  to  do  that  to  a  large  population.  And  now, 
my  friend,"  with  a  peculiarly  grave  air,  evidently  fore 
shadowing  something  not  unimportant,  and  very  likely 
ofclo.se  personal  interest;  "  wine,  you  know,  opens  the 
heart,  and — " 

"Opens  it!"  with  exultation,  "it  thaws  it  right  out. 
Every  heart  is  ice-bound  till  wine  melt  it,  and  reveal  the 
tender  grass  and  sweet  herbage  budding  below,  with 
every  dear  secret,  hidden  before  like  a  dropped  jewel  in  a 
snow-bank,  lying  there  unsuspected  through  winter  till 
spring." 

"  And  just  in  that  way,  my  dear  Charlie,  is  one  of 
my  little  secrets  now  to  be  shown  forth." 

"Ah!"  eagerly  moving  round  his  chair,  "what  is  it?" 

"  Be  not  so  impetuous,  my  dear  Charlie.  Let  me 
explain.  You  see,  naturally,  I  am  a  man  not  overgifted 
with  assurance;  in  general,  I  am,  if  anything,  diffidently 
reserved  ;  so,  if  I  shall  presently  seem  otherwise,  the  rea 
son  is,  that  you,  by  the  geniality  you  have  evinced  in  all 
your  talk,  and  especially  the  noble  way  in  which,  while 
affirming  your  good  opinion  of  men,  you  intimated  that 
you  never  could  prove  false  to  any  man,  but  most  by 
your  indignation  at  a  particularly  illiberal  passage  in 
Polonius'  advice — in  short,  in  short,"  with  extreme  em 
barrassment,  "  how  shall  I  express  what  I  mean,  unless 
I  add  that  by  your  whole  character  you  impel  me  to 
throw  myself  upon  your  nobleness ;  in  one  word,  put 
confidence  in  you,  a  generous  confidence?" 


280  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"I  see,  I  see,"  with  heightened  interest,  "  something 
of  moment  you  wish  to  confide.  Now,  what  is  it, 
Frank?  Love  affair?" 

"  No,  not  that." 

"  What,  then,  my  dear  Frank  ?  Speak — depend  upon 
me  to  the  last.  Out  with  it." 

"  Out  it  shall  come,  then,"  said  the  cosmopolitan 
"  I  am  in  want,  urgent  want,  of  money." 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

A    METAMORPHOSIS    MORE    SUFRISING   THAN    ANY   IN    OVID. 

"  IN  want  of  money !"  pushing  back  his  chair  as 
from  a  suddenly-disclosed  man-trap  or  crater. 

"  Yes,"  naively  assented  the  cosmopolitan,  "  and  you 
are  going  to  loan  me  fifty  dollars.  I  could  almost  wish 
I  was  in  need  of  more,  only  for  your  sake.  Yes,  my 
dear  Charlie,  for  your  sake  ;  that  you  might  the  better 
prove  your  noble  kindliness,  my  dear  Charlie." 

"  None  of  your  dear  Charlies,"  cried  the  other, 
springing  to  his  feet,  and  buttoning  up  his  coat,  as  if 
hastily  to  depart  upon  a  long  journey. 

"  Why,  why,  why?"  painfully  looking  up. 

"  None  of  your  why,  why,  whys !"  tossing  out  a  foot, 
"  go  to  the  devil,  sir  !  Beggar,  impostor ! — never  so 
deceived  in  a  man  in  my  life." 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

SHOWING   THAT   THE   AGE  OP    MAGIC    AND  MAGICIANS    IS    NOT   YET   OVER. 

WHILE  speaking  or  rather  hissing  those  words,  the 
boon  companion  underwent  much  such  a  change  as  one 
reads  of  in  fairy-books.  Out  of  old  materials  sprang  a 
new  creature.  Cadmus  glided  into  the  snake. 

The  cosmopolitan  rose,  the  traces  of  previous  feeling 
vanished ;  looked  steadfastly  at  his  transformed  friend  a 
moment,  then,  taking  ten  half-eagles  from  his  pocket, 
stooped  down,  and  laid  them,  one  by  one,  in  a  circle 
round  him  ;  and,  retiring  a  pace,  waved  his  long  tasseled 
pipe  with  the  air  of  a  necromancer,  an  air  heightened 
by  his  costume,  accompanying  each  wave  with  a  solemn 
murmur  of  cabalistical  words. 

Meantime,  he  within  the  magic-ring  stood  suddenly 
rapt,  exhibiting  every  symptom  of  a  successful  charm — 
a  turned  cheek,  a  fixed  attitude,  a  frozen  eye  ;  spell 
bound,  not  more  by  the  waving  wand  than  by  the  ten 
invincible  talismans  on  the  floor. 

"  Reappear,  reappear,  reappear,  oh,  my  former  friend  ! 
Replace  this  hideous  apparition  with  thy  blest  shape, 
and  be  the  token  of  thy  return  the  words,  '  My  dear 
Frank.'  " 


T  H  E    A  G  E      OF      MAGIC,      ETC.  283 

"  My  dear  Frank,"  now  cried  the  restored  friend, 
cordially  stepping  out  of  the  ring,  with  regained  self- 
possession  regaining  lost  identity,  "  My  dear  Frank, 
what  a  funny  man  you  are ;  full  of  fun  as  an  egg  of 
meat.  How  could  you  tell  me  that  absurd  story  of 
your  being  in  need  ?  But  I  relish  a  good  joke  too  well 
to  spoil  it  by  letting  on.  Of  course,  I  humored  the 
thing ;  and,  on  my  side,  put  on  all  the  cruel  airs  you 
would  have  me.  Come,  this  little  episode  of  fictitious 
estrangement  will  but  enhance  the  delightful  reality. 
Let  us  sit  down  again,  and  finish  our  bottle." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  dropping 
the  necromancer  with  the  same  facility  with  which  he 
had  assumed  it.  "  Yes,"  he  added,  soberly  picking 
up  the  gold  pieces,  and  returning  them  with  a  chink  to 
his  pocket,  "yes,  I  am  something  of  a  funny  man  now 
and  then ;  while  for  you,  Charlie,"  eying  him  in  tender 
ness,  "  what  you  say  about  your  humoring  the  thing  is 
true  enough  ;  never  did  man  second  a  joke  better  than 
you  did  just  now.  You  played  your  part  better  than  I 
did  mine ;  you  played  it,  Charlie,  to  the  life." 

"  You  see,  I  once  belonged  to  an  amateur  play 
company;  that  accounts  for  it.  But  come,  fill  up, 
and  let's  talk  of  something  else." 

"  Well,"  acquiesced  the  cosmopolitan,  seating  himself, 
and  quietly  brimming  his  glass,  "  what  shall  we  talk 
about  ?" 

"  Oh,  anything  you  please,"  a  sort  of  nervously 
accommodating. 

"  Well,  suppose  we  talk  about  Charlemont  ?" 


284  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  Charlemont  ?  What's  Charlemont  ?  Who's  Char- 
lemont  ?" 

"  You  shall  hear,  my  dear  Charlie,"  answered  the 
cosmopolitan.  "  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  Charlemont, 
the  gentleman-madman." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

WHICH    MAY    PASS    FOR   WHATEVER   IT    MAY   TROVE    TO   BE   WORTH. 

BUT  ere  be  given  the  rather  grave  story  of  Charle- 
mont,  a  reply  must  in  civility  be  made  to  a  certain  voice 
which  methinks  I  hear,  that,  in  view  of  past  chapters, 
and  more  particularly  the  last,  where  certain  antics  ap 
pear,  exclaims  :  How  unreal  all  this  is  !  Who  did  ever 
dress  or  act  like  your  cosmopolitan?  And  who,  it 
might  be  returned,  did  ever  dress  or  act  like  harlequin? 

Strange,  that  in  a  work  of  amusement,  this  severe 
fidelity  to  real  life  should  be  exacted  by  any  one,  who, 
by  taking  up  such  a  work,  sufficiently  shows  that  he  is 
not  unwilling  to  drop  real  life,  and  turn,  for  a  time,  to 
something  different.  Yes,  it  is,  indeed,  strange  that  any 
one  should  clamor  for  the  thing  he  is  weary  of;  that  any 
one,  who,  for  any  cause,  finds  real  life  dull,  should  yet 
demand  of  him  who  is  to  divert  his  attention  from  it, 
that  he  should  be  true  to  that  dullness. 

There  is  another  class,  and  with  this  class  we  side, 
who  sit  down  to  a  work  of  amusement  tolerantly  as  they 
sit  at  a  play,  and  with  much  the  same  expectations  and 
feelings.  They,  look  that  fancy  shall  evoke  scenes  differ 
ent  from  those  of  the  same  old  crowd  round  the  custom- 


286  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

house  counter,  and  same  old  dishes  on  the  boarding- 
house  table,  with  characters  unlike  those  of  the  same 
old  acquaintances  they  meet  in  the  same  old  way  every 
day  in  the  same  old  street.  And  as,  in  real  life,  the  pro 
prieties  will  not  allow  people  to  act  out  themselves  with 
that  unreserve  permitted  to  the  stage ;  so,  in  books  of 
fiction,  they  look  not  only  for  more  entertainment,  but, 
at  bottom,  even  for  more  reality,  than  real  life  itself  can 
show.  Thus,  though  they  want  novelty,  they  want 
nature,  too ;  but  nature  unfettered,  exhilarated,  in  eifect 
transformed.  In  this  way  of  thinking,  the  people  in  a 
fiction,  like  the  people  in  a  play,  must  dress  as  nobody 
exactly  dresses,  talk  as  nobody  exactly  talks,  act  as 
nobody  exactly  acts.  It  is  with  fiction  as  with  religion : 
it  should  present  another  world,  and  yet  one  to  which 
we  feel  the  tie. 

If,  then,  something  is  to  be  pardoned  to  well-meant 
endeavor,  surely  a  little  is  to  be  allowed  to  that  writer 
who,  in  all  his  scenes,  does  but  seek  to  minister  to  what, 
as  he  understands  it,  is  the  implied  wish  of  the  more 
indulgent  lovers  of  entertainment,  before  whom  harlequin 
can  never  appear  in  a  coat  too  parti-colored,  or  cut 
capers  too  fantastic. 

One  word  more.  Though  every  one  knows  how 
bootless  it  is  to  be  in  all  cases  vindicating  one's  self,  never 
mind  how  convinced  one  may  be  that  he  is  never  in  the 
wrong;  yet,  so  precious  to  man  is  the  approbation  of 
his  kind,  that  to  rest,  though  but  under  an  imaginary 
censure  applied  to  but  a  work  of  imagination,  is  no  easy 
thing.  The  mention  of  this  weakness  will  explain  why 


WHICH      MAY      PASS,      ETC.  287 

all  such  readers  as  may  think  they  perceive  something 
inharmonious  between  the  boisterous  hilarity  of  the 
cosmopolitan  with  the  bristling  cynic,  and  his  restrained 
good-nature  with  the  boon-companion,  are  now  referred 
to  that  chapter  where  some  similar  apparent  incon 
sistency  in  another  character  is,  on  general  principles, 
modestly  endeavored  to  be  apologized  for. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

IN     WHICH    THE    COSMOPOLITAN    TELLS    THE    STORY    OF    THE    GENTLEMAN- 
MADMAN. 

"  CHARLEMONT  was  a  young  merchant  of  French 
descent,  living  in  St.  Louis — a  man  not  deficient  in 
mind,  and  possessed  of  that  sterling  and  captivating 
kindliness,  seldom  in  perfection  seen  but  in  youthful 
bachelors,  united  at  times  to  a  remarkable  sort  of  grace 
fully  devil-may-care  and  witty  good-humor.  Of  course,  he 
was  admired  by  everybody,  and  loved,  as  only  mankind 
can  love,  by  not  a  few.  But  in  his  twenty-ninth  year 
a  change  came  over  him.  Like  one  whose  hair  turns 
gray  in  a  night,  so  in  a  day  Charlemont  turned  from 
affable  to  morose.  His  acquaintances  were  passed  with 
out  greeting  ;  while,  as  for  his  confidential  friends,  them 
he  pointedly,  unscrupulously,  and  with  a  kind  of  fierce 
ness,  cut  dead. 

"  One,  provoked  by  such  conduct,  would  fain  have 
resented  it  with  words  as  disdainful  ;  while  another, 
shocked  by  the  change,  and,  in  concern  for  a  friend, 
magnanimously  overlooking  affronts,  implored  to  know 
what  sudden,  secret  grief  had  distempered  him.  But 


STORY  OF  THE  GE N TLE M AX-M ADM AX .   289 

from  resentment  and  from  tenderness  Charlemont  alike 
turned  away. 

"  Ere  long,  to  the  general  surprise,  the  merchant 
Charlemont  was  gazetted,  and  the  same  day  it  was  re 
ported  that  he  had  withdrawn  from  town,  but  not 
before  placing  his  entire  property  in  the  hands  of  re 
sponsible  assignees  for  the  benefit  of  creditors. 

u  Whither  he  had  vanished,  none  could  guess.  At 
length,  nothing  being  heard,  it  was  surmised  that  he 
must  have  made  away  with  himself — a  surmise,  doubtless, 
originating  in  the  remembrance  of  the  change  some 
months  previous  to  his  bankruptcy — a  change  of  a  sort 
only  to  be  ascribed  to  a  mind  suddenly  thrown  from  its 
balance. 

"  Years  passed.  It  was  spring-time,  and  lo,  one 
bright  morning,  Charlemont  lounged  into  the  St.  Louis 
coffee-houses — gay,  polite,  humane,  companionable,  and 
dressed  in  the  height  of  costly  elegance.  Not  only  was 
he  alive,  but  he  was  himself  again.  Upon  meeting  with 
old  acquaintances,  he  made  the  first  advances,  and  in 
such  a  manner  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  meet  him' 
half-way.  Upon  other  old  friends,  whom  he  did  not 
chance  casually  to  meet,  he  either  personally  called,  or 
left  his  card  and  compliments  for  them  ;  and  to  several, 
sent  presents  of  game  or  hampers  of  wine. 

"  They  say  the  world  is  sometimes  harshly  unfor 
giving,  but  it  was  not  so  to  Charlemont.  The  world 
feels  a  return  of  love  for  one  who  returns  to  it  as  he 
did.  Expressive  of  its  renewed  interest  was  a  whisper, 

an  inquiring  whisper,  how  now,  exactly,  so  long  after 
13 


290  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

his  bankruptcy,  it  fared  with  Charlemont's  purse. 
Rumor,  seldom  at  a  loss  for  answers,  replied  that  he  had 
spent  nine  years  in  Marseilles  in  France,  and  there  ac 
quiring  a  second  fortune,  had  returned  with  it,  a  man 
devoted  henceforth  to  genial  friendships. 

"  Added  years  went  by,  and  the  restored  wanderer 
still  the  same;  or  rather,  by  his  noble  qualities,  grew  up 
like  golden  maize  in  the  encouraging  sun  of  good 
opinions.  But  still  the  latent  wonder  was,  what  had 
caused  that  change  in  him  at  a  period  when,  pretty  much 
as  now,  he  was,  to  all  appearance,  in  the  possession  of 
the  same  fortune,  the  same  friends,  the  same  popularity. 
But  nobody  thought  it  would  be  the  thing  to  question 
him  here. 

uAt  last,  at  a  dinner  at  his  house,  when  all  the  guests 
but  one  had  successively  departed  ;  this  remaining 
guest,  an  old  acquaintance,  being  just  enough  under 
the  influence  of  wine  to  set  aside  the  fear  of  touching 
upon  a  delicate  point,  ventured,  in  a  way  which  perhaps 
spoke  more  favorably  for  his  heart  than  his  tact,  to  beg 
of  his  host  to  explain  the  one  enigma  of  his  life.  Deep 
melancholy  overspread  the  before  cheery  face  of  Charle- 
mont ;  he  sat  for  some  moments  tremulously  silent ;  then 
pushing  a  full  decanter  towards  the  guest,  in  a  choked 
voice,  said  :  '  No,  no  !  when  by  art,  and  care,  and  time, 
flowers  are  made  to  bloom  over  a  grave,  who  would 
seek  to  dig  all  up  again  only  to  know  the  mystery  ? — 
The  wine.'  When  both  glasses  were  filled,  Charlemont 
took  his,  and  lifting  it,  added  lowly  :  *  If  ever,  in  days 
to  come,  you  shall  see  ruin  at  hand,  and,  thinking  you 


STORY   OF    THE    GENTLEMAN-MADMAN.        291 

understand  mankind,  shall  tremble  for  your  friendships, 
and  tremble  for  your  pride  ;  and,  partly  through  love 
for  the  one  and  fear  for  the  other,  shall  resolve  to  be 
beforehand  with  the  world,  and  save  it  from  a  sin  by 
prospectively  taking  that  sin  to  yourself,  then  will  you 
do  as  one  I  now  dream  of  once  did,  and  like  him  will 
you  suffer  ;  but  how  fortunate  and  how  grateful  should 
you  be,  if  like  him,  after  all  that  had  happened,  you 
could  be  a  little  happy  again.' 

"  When  the  guest  went  away,  it  was  with  the  per 
suasion,  that  though  outwardly  restored  in  mind  as  in 
fortune,  yet,  some  taint  of  Charlemont's  old  malady 
survived,  and  that  it  was  not  well  for  friends  to  touch 
one  dangerous  string." 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

IN  WHICH   THE    COSMOPOLITAN    STRIKINGLY   EVINCES    THE    ARTLESSNESS 
OF   HIS   NATURE. 

"  WELL,  what  do  you  think  of  the  story  of  Charle- 
mont  ?"  mildly  asked  he  who  had  told  it. 

"  A  very  strange  one,"  answered  the  auditor,  who  had 
been  such  not  with  perfect  ease,  "  but  is  it  true  ?" 

"  Of  course  not  ;  it  is  a  story  which  I  told  with 
the  purpose  of  every  story-teller — to  amuse.  Hence,  if 
it  seem  strange  to  you,  that  strangeness  is  the  romance  ; 
it  is  what  contrasts  it  with  real  life  ;  it  is  the  invention, 
in  brief,  the  fiction  as  opposed  to  the  fact.  For  do  but 
ask  yourself,  my  dear  Charlie,"  lovingly  leaning  over  to 
wards  him,  "  I  rest  it  with  your  own  heart  now,  whe 
ther  such  a  forereaching  motive  as  Charlemont  hinted 
he  had  acted  on  in  his  change — whether  such  a  motive, 
I  say,  were  a  sort  of  one  at  all  justified  by  the  nature 
of  human  society  ?  Would  you,  for  one,  turn  the 
cold  shoulder  to  a  friend — a  convivial  one,  say,  whose 
pennilessness  should  be  suddenly  revealed  to  you  ?" 

"  How  can  you  ask  me,  my  dear  Frank  ?  You  know 
I  would  scorn  such  meanness."  But  rising  somewhat 
disconcerted — "  really,  early  as  it  is,  I  think  I  must  re- 


THE    COSMOPOLITAN    EVINCES,    ETC.        293 

tire  ;  my  head,"  putting  up  his  hand  to  it,  "  feels  un 
pleasantly  ;  this  confounded  elixir  of  logwood,  little  as  I 
drank  of  it,  has  played  the  deuce  with  me." 

"  Little  as  you  drank  of  this  elixir  of  logwood  ?  Why, 
Charlie,  you  are  losing  your  mind.  To  talk  so  of  the 
genuine,  mellow  old  port.  Yes,  I  think  that  by  all 
means  you  had  better  away,  and  sleep  it  off.  There — 
don't  apologize — don't  explain — go,  go — I  understand 
you  exactly.  I  will  see  you  to-morrow." 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

IN   WHICH    THE    COSMOPOLITAN    IS    ACCOSTED    BY  A    MYSTIC,   WHEREUPON 

ENSUES   PRETTY   MUCH   SUCH  TALK   AS   MIGHT   BE   EXPECTED. 
/ 

As,  not  without  some  haste,  the  boon  companion  with 
drew,  a  stranger  advanced,  and  touching  the  cosmopoli 
tan,  said  :  "I  think  I  heard  you  say  you  would  see  that 
man  again.  Be  warned  ;  don't  you  do  so." 

He  turned,  surveying  the  speaker ;  a  blue-eyed  man, 
sandy-haired,  and  Saxon-looking ;  perhaps  five  and 
forty ;  tall,  and,  but  for  a  certain  angularity,  well  made  ; 
little  touch  of  the  drawing-room  about  him,  but  a  look  of 
plain  propriety  of  a  Puritan  sort,  with  a  kind  of  farmer 
dignity.  His  age  seemed  betokened  more  by  his  brow, 
placidly  thoughtful,  than  by  his  general  aspect,  which 
had  that  look  of  youthf illness  in  maturity,  peculiar 
sometimes  to  habitual  health  of  body,  the  original  gift 
of  nature,  or  in  part  the  effect  or  reward  of  steady  tem 
perance  of  the  passions,  kept  so,  perhaps,  by  constitu 
tion  as  much  as  morality.  A  neat,  comely,  almost 
ruddy  cheek,  coolly  fresh,  like  a  red  clover-blossom  at 
coolish  dawn — the  color  of  warmth  preserved  by  the 
virtue  of  chill.  Toning  the  whole  man,  was  one-knows- 
not-what  of  shrewdness  and  mythiness,  strangely  jum- 


A      MYSTIC.  295 

bled ;  in  that  way,  he  seemed  a  kind  of  cross  between 
a  Yankee  peddler  and  a  Tartar  priest,  though  it  seemed 
as  if,  at  a  pinch,  the  first  would  not  in  all  probability 
play  second  fiddle  to  the  last. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  rising  and  bowing  with 
slow  dignity,  "  if  I  cannot  with  unmixed  satisfaction 
hail  a  hint  pointed  at  one  who  has  just  been  clinking 
the  social  glass  with  me,  on  the  other  hand,  I  am  not 
disposed  to  underrate  the  motive  which,  in  the  present 
case,  could  alone  have  prompted  such  an  intimation. 
My  friend,  whose  seat  is  still  warm,  has  retired  for  the 
night,  leaving  more  or  less  in  his  bottle  here.  Pray,  sit 
down  in  his  seat,  and  partake  with  me ;  and  then,  if 
you  choose  to  hint  aught  further  unfavorable  to  the  man, 
the  genial  warmth  of  whose  person  in  part  passes  into 
yours,  and  whose  genial  hospitality  meanders  through 
you — be  it  so." 

"  Quite  beautiful  conceits,"  said  the  stranger,  now 
scholastically  and  artistically  eying  the  picturesque 
speaker,  as  if  he  were  a  statue  in  the  Pitti  Palace  ; 
"very  beautiful:"  then  with  the  gravest  interest, 
"  yours,  sir,  if  I  mistake  not,  must  be  a  beautiful  soul — 
one  full  of  all  love  and  truth;  for  where  beauty  is, 
there  must  those  be." 

"  A  pleasing  belief,"  rejoined  the  cosmopolitan,  be 
ginning  with  an  even  air,  "  and  to  confess,  long  ago  it 
pleased  me.  Yes,  with  you  and  Schiller,  I  am  pleased 
to  believe  that  beauty  is  at  bottom  incompatible  with 
ill,  and  therefore  am  so  eccentric  as  to  have  confidence 
in  the  latent  benignity  of  that  beautiful  creature,  the 


296  T  HE      C  O  N  F  I  D  E  X  C  E  -  M  A  N  . 

rattle-snake,  whose  lithe  neck  and  burnished  maze  of 
tawny  gold,  as  he  sleekly  curls  aloft  in  the  sun,  who  on 
the  prairie  can  behold  without  wonder?" 

As  he  breathed  these  words,  he  seemed  so  to  enter 
into  their  spirit — as  some  earnest  descriptive  speakers 
will — as  unconsciously  to  wreathe  his  form  and  sidelong 
crest  his  head,  till  he  all  but  seemed  the  creature  de 
scribed.  Meantime,  the  stranger  regarded  him  with 
little  surprise,  apparently,  though  with  much  contem- 
plativeness  of  a  mystical  sort,  and  presently  said : 
"  When  charmed  by  the  beauty  of  that  viper,  did  it 
never  occur  to  you  to  change  personalities  with  him  ? 
to  feel  what  it  was  to  be  a  snake  ?  to  glide  unsuspected 
in  grass  ?  to  sting,  to  kill  at  a  touch ;  your  whole  beau 
tiful  body  one  iridescent  scabbard  of  death  ?  In  short, 
did  the  wish  never  occur  to  you  to  feel  yourself  exempt 
from  knowledge,  and  conscience,  and  revel  for  a  while 
in  the  care-free,  joyous  life  of  a  perfectly  instinctive, 
unscrupulous,  and  irresponsible  creature  ?" 

"Such  a  wish,"  replied  the  other,  not  perceptibly 
disturbed,  "I  must  confess,  never  consciously  was 
mine.  Such  a  wish,  indeed,  could  hardly  occur  to  or 
dinary  imaginations,  and  mine  I  cannot  think  much 
above  the  average." 

"  But  now  that  the  idea  is  suggested,"  said  the 
stranger,  with  infantile  intellectuality,  "  does  it  not 
raise  the  desire  ?" 

"  Hardly. ,  For  though  I  do  not  think  I  have  any  un 
charitable  prejudice  against  the  rattle-snake,  still,  I 
should  not  like  to  be  one.  If  I  were  a  rattle-snake  now, 


A      M  Y  S  T  I  C  297 

there  would  be  no  such  thing  as  being  genial  with  men — 
men  would  be  afraid  of  me,  and  then  I  should  be  a  very 
lonesome  and  miserable  rattle-snake." 

"  True,  men  would  be  afraid  of  you.  And  why  ? 
Because  of  your  rattle,  your  hollow  rattle — abound,  as 
I  have  been  told,  like  the  shaking  together  of  small,  dry 
skulls  in  a  tune  of  the  Waltz  of  Death.  And  here  we 
have  another  beautiful  truth.  When  any  creature  is  by 
its  make  inimical  to  other  creatures,  nature  in  effect 
labels  that  creature,  much  as  an  apothecary  does  a 
poison.  So  that  whoever  is  destroyed  by  a  rattle-snake, 
or  other  harmful  agent,  it  is  his  own  fault.  He  should 
have  respected  the  label.  Hence  that  significant  pas 
sage  in  Scripture,  '  Who  will  pity  the  charmer  that  is 
bitten  with  a  serpent  ?' ' 

"  I  would  pity  him,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  a  little 
bluntly,  perhaps. 

"  But  don't  you  think,"  rejoined  the  other,  still  main 
taining  his  passionless  air,  "  don't  you  think,  that  for  a 
man  to  pity  where  nature  is  pitiless,  is  a  little  presum- 
ing?" 

"  Let  casuists  decide  the  casuistry,  but  the  compassion 
the  heart  decides  for  itself.  But,  sir,"  deepening  in 
seriousness,  "  as  I  now  for  the  first  realize,  you  but  a 
moment  since  introduced  the  word  irresponsible  in  a 
way  I  am  not  used  to.  Now,  sir,  though,  out  of  a  tol 
erant  spirit,  as  I  hope,  I  try  my  best  never  to  be 
frightened  at  any  speculation,  so  long  as  it  is  pursued  in 
honesty,  yet,  for  once,  I  must  acknowledge  that  you  do 

really,  in  the  point  cited,  cause  me  uneasiness ;  because 
13* 


293  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

a  proper  view  of  the  universe,  that  view  which  is  suited 
to  breed  a  proper  confidence,  teaches,  if  I  err  not,  that 
since  all  things  are  justly  presided  over,  not  very  many 
living  agents  but  must  be  some  way  accountable." 

"  Is  a  rattle-snake  accountable  ?"  asked  the  stranger 
with  such  a  preternaturally  cold,  gemmy  glance  out  of 
his  pellucid  blue  eye,  that  he  seemed  more  a  metaphys 
ical  merman  than  a  feeling  man  ;  "  is  a  rattle-snake 
accountable  ?" 

"  If  I  will  not  affirm  that  it  is,"  returned  the  other, 
with  the  caution  of  no  inexperienced  thinker,  "  neither 
will  I  deny  it.  But  if  we  suppose  it  so,  I  need  not  say 
that  such  accountability  is  neither  to  you,  nor  me,  nor 
the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  but  to  something  supe 
rior." 

He  was  proceeding,  when  the  stranger  would  have 
interrupted  him  ;  but  as  reading  his  argument  in  his  eye, 
the  cosmopolitan,  without  waiting  for  it  to  be  put  into 
words,  at  once  spoke  to  it :  "  You  object  to  my  sup 
position,  for  but  such  it  is,  that  the  rattle-snake's 
accountability  is  not  by  nature  manifest ;  but  might  not 
much  the  same  thing  be  urged  against  man's?  A 
reductio  ad  absurdum,  proving  the  objection  vain.  But 
if  now,"  he  continued,  "you  consider  what  capacity 
for  mischief  there  is  in  a  rattle-snake  (observe,  I  do  not 
charge  it  with  being  mischievous,  I  but  say  it  has  the 
capacity),  could  you  well  avoid  admitting  that  that 
would  be  no  symmetrical  view  of  the  universe  which 
should  maintain  that,  while  to  man  it  is  forbidden  to 
kill,  without  judicial  cause,  his  fellow,  yet  the  rattle- 


A     MYSTIC.  299 

snake  has  an  implied  permit  of  unaccountability  to 
murder  any  creature  it  takes  capricious  umbrage  at — man 
included  ? — But,"  with  a  wearied  air,  "  this  is  no  genial 
talk ;  at  least  it  is  not  so  to  me.  Zeal  at  unawares  em 
barked  me  in  it.  I  regret  it.  Pray,  sit  down,  and  take 
some  of  this  wine." 

"  Your  suggestions  are  new  to  me,"  said  the  other, 
with  a  kind  of  condescending  appreciativeness,  as  of 
one  who,  out  of  devotion  to  knowledge,  disdains  not  to 
appropriate  the  least  crumb  of  it,  even  from  a  pauper's 
board  ;  "  and,  as  I  am  a  very  Athenian  in  hailing  a  new 
thought,  I  cannot  consent  to  let  it  drop  so  abruptly. 
Now,  the  rattle-snake — " 

"Nothing  more  about  rattle-snakes,  I  beseech,"  in 
distress;  "I  must  positively  decline  to  reenter  upon 
that  subject.  Sit  down,  sir,  I  beg,  and  take  some  of  this 
wine." 

"  To  invite  me  to  sit  down  with  you  is  hospitable," 
collectedly  acquiescing  now  in  the  change  of  topics  ; 
"  and  hospitality  being  fabled  to  be  of  oriental  origin, 
and  forming,  as  it  does,  the  subject  of  a  pleasing  Arabian 
romance,  as  well  as  being  a  very  romantic  thing  in  itself 
— hence  I  always  hear  the  expressions  of  hospitality 
with  pleasure.  But,  as  for  the  wine,  my  regard  for 
that  beverage  is  so  extreme,  and  I  am  so  fearful  of  let 
ting  it  sate  me,  that  I  keep  my  love  for  it  in  the  lasting 
condition  of  an  untried  abstraction.  Briefly,  I  quaff 
immense  draughts  of  wine  from  the  page  of  Hafiz,  but 
wine  from  a  cup  I  seldom  as  much  as  sip." 

The  cosmopolitan   turned  a  mild   glance   upon  the 


300  THE      C  O  X  F  I  D  E  N  C  E  -  M  A  N  . 

speaker,  who,  now  occupying  the  chair  opposite  him,  sat 
there  purely  and  coldly  radiant  as  a  prism.  It  seemed 
as  if  one  could  almost  hear  him  vitreously  chime  and 
ring.  That  moment  a  waiter  passed,  whom,  arresting 
with  a  sign,  the  cosmopolitan  bid  go  bring  a  goblet  of 
ice-water.  "Ice  it  well,  waiter,"  said  he;  "and  now," 
turning  to  the  stranger,  "  will  you,  if  you  please,  give 
me  your  reason  for  the  warning  words  you  first  addressed 
to  me  ?" 

"  I  hope  they  were  not  such  warnings  as  most  warn 
ings  are,"  said  the  stranger ;  "  warnings  which  do  not 
forewarn,  but  in  mockery  come  after  the  fact.  And  yet 
something  in  you  bids  me  think  now,  that  whatever 
latent  design  your  impostor  friend  might  have  had  upon 
you,  it  as  yet  remains  unaccomplished.  You  read  his 
label." 

"And  what  did  it  say  ?  'This  is  a  genial  soul.'  So 
you  see  you  must  either  give  up  your  doctrine  of  labels, 
or  else  your  prejudice  against  my  friend.  But  tell  me," 
with  renewed  earnestness,  "  what  do  you  take  him  for? 
What  is  he  ?" 

"  What  are  you?  What  am  I  ?  Nobody  knows  who 
anybody  is.  The  data  which  life  furnishes,  towards 
forming  a  true  estimate  of  any  being,  are  as  insufficient 
to  that  end  as  in  geometry  one  side  given  would  be  to 
determine  the  triangle." 

"  But  is  not  this  doctrine  of  triangles  someway  incon 
sistent  with  your  doctrine  of  labels  ?" 

"Yes;  but  what  of  that?  I  seldom  care  to  be  con 
sistent.  In  a  philosophical  view,  consistency  is  a  certain 


A      -MYSTIC.  301 

level  at  all  times,  maintained  in  all  the  thoughts  of 
one's  mind.  But,  since  nature  is  nearly  all  hill  and 
dale,  how  can  one  keep  naturally  advancing  in  know 
ledge  without  submitting  to  the  natural  inequalities  in 
the  progress?  Advance  into  knowledge  is  just  like 
advance  upon  the  grand  Erie  canal,  where,  from  the 
character  of  the  country,  change  of  level  is  inevitable  ; 
you  are  locked  up  and  locked  down  with  perpetual 
inconsistencies,  and  yet  all  the  time  you  get  on ;  while 
the  dullest  part  of  the  whole  route  is  what  the  boatmen 
call  the  'long  level' — a  consistently-flat  surface  of  sixty 
miles  through  stagnant  swamps." 

"  In  one  particular,"  rejoined  the  cosmopolitan,  "  your 
simile  is,  perhaps,  unfortunate.  For,  after  all  these 
weary  lockings-up  and  lockings-down,  upon  how  much 
of  a  higher  plain  do  you  finally  stand  ?  Enough  to  make 
it  an  object  ?  Having  from  youth  been  taught  reverence 
for  knowledge,  you  must  pardon  me  if,  on  but  this  one 
account,  I  reject  your  analogy.  But  really  you  some 
way  bewitch  me  with  your  tempting  discourse,  so  that 
I  keep  straying  from  my  point  unawares.  You  tell  me 
you  cannot  certainly  know  who  or  what  my  friend  is ; 
pray,  what  do  you  conjecture  him  to  be?" 

"I  conjecture  him  to  be  what,  among  the  ancient 

Egyptians,  was   called  a  "  using  some  unknown 

word. 

"A !     And  what  is  that  ?" 

"A is  what  Proclus,  in  a  little  note  to  his  third 

book  on  the  theology  of  Plato,  defines  as " 

coming  out  with  a  sentence  of  Greek. 


302  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

Holding  up  his  glass,  and  steadily  looking  through  its 
transparency,  the  cosmopolitan  rejoined:  "  That,  in  so 
defining  the  thing,  Proclus  set  it  to  modern  understand 
ings  in  the  most  crystal  light  it  was  susceptible  of,  I 
will  not  rashly  deny ;  still,  if  you  could  put  the  defi- 
tion  in  words  suited  to  perceptions  like  mine,  I  should 
take  it  for  a  favor. 

"A  favor!"  slightly  lifting  his  cool  eyebrows;  "a 
bridal  favor  I  understand,  a  knot  of  white  ribands,  a 
very  beautiful  type  of  the  purity  of  true  marriage ;  but  of 
other  favors  I  am  yet  to  learn  ;  and  still,  in  a  vague  way, 
the  word,  as  you  employ  it,  strikes  me  as  unpleasingly 
significant  in  general  of  some  poor,  unheroic  submission 
to  being  done  good  to." 

Here  the  goblet  of  iced-water  was  brought,  and,  in 
compliance  with  a  sign  from  the  cosmopolitan,  was 
placed  before  the  stranger,  who,  not  before  expressing 
acknowledgments,  took  a  draught,  apparently  refresh 
ing — its  very  coldness,  as  with  some  is  the  case,  proving 
not  entirely  uncongenial. 

At  last,  setting  down  the  goblet,  and  gently  wiping 
from  his  lips  the  beads  of  water  freshly  clinging  there 
as  to  the  valve  of  a  coral-shell  upon  a  reef,  he  turned 
upon  the  cosmopolitan,  and,  in  a  manner  the  most  cool, 
self-possessed,  and  matter-of-fact  possible,  said:  "I  hold 
to  the  metempsychosis ;  and  whoever  I  may  be  now,  I 
feel  that  I  was  once  the  stoic  Arrian,  and  have  inklings 
of  having  been  equally  puzzled  by  a  word  in  the  current 
language  of  that  former  time,  very  probably  answering 
to  your  word  favor" 


A.     MY  STIC.  303 

"  Would  you  favor  me  by  explaining  ?"  said  the  cos 
mopolitan,  blandly. 

"  Sir,"  responded  the  stranger,  with  a  very  slight 
degree  of  severity,  "  I  like  lucidity,  of  all  things,  and 
am  afraid  I  shall  hardly  be  able  to  converse  satisfac 
torily  with  you,  unless  you  bear  it  in  mind." 

The  cosmopolitan  ruminatingly  eyed  him  awhile,  then 
said:  "  The  best  way,  as  I  have  heard,  to  get  out  of  a 
labyrinth,  is  to  retrace  one's  steps.  I  will  accordingly 
retrace  mine,  and  beg  you  will  accompany  me.  In 
short,  once  again  to  return  to  the  point :  for  what 
reason  did  you  warn  me  against  my  friend  V" 

"  Briefly,  then,  and  clearly,  because,  as  before  said,  I 
conjecture  him  to  be  what,  among  the  ancient  Egyp 
tians—" 

"  Pray,  now,"  earnestly  deprecated  the  cosmopolitan, 
"  pray,  now,  why  disturb  the  repose  of  those  ancient 
Egyptians?  What  to  us  are  their  words  or  their 
thoughts  ?  Are  we  pauper  Arabs,  without  a  house  of 
our  own,  that,  with  the  mummies,  we  must  turn  squat 
ters  among  the  dust  of  the  Catacombs?" 

"  Pharaoh's  poorest  brick-maker  lies  proudlier  in  his 
rags  than  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Russias  in  his  hoi- 
lands,"  oracularly  said  the  stranger;  "for  death, though 
in  a  worm,  is  majestic ;  while  life,  though  in  a  king,  is 
contemptible.  So  talk  not  against  mummies.  It  is  a 
part  of  my  mission  to  teach  mankind  a  due  reverence 
for  mummies." 

Fortunately,  to  arrest  these  incoherencies,  or  rather, 
to  vary  them,  a  haggard,  inspired-looking  man  now  ap- 


304  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

preached — a  crazy  beggar,  asking  alms  under  the  form 
of  peddling  a  rhapsodical  tract,  composed  by  himself, 
and  setting  forth  his  claims  to  some  rhapsodical  apostle- 
ship.  Though  ragged  and  dirty,  there  was  about  him 
no  touch  of  vulgarity;  for,  by  nature,  his  manner  was 
not  unrefined,  his  frame  slender,  and  appeared  the  more 
so  from  the  broad,  untanned  frontlet  of  his  brow,  tangled 
over  with  a  disheveled  mass  of  raven  curls,  throwing  a 
still  deeper  tinge  upon  a  complexion  like  that  of  a 
shriveled  berry.  Nothing  could  exceed  his  look  of  pic 
turesque  Italian  ruin  and  dethronement,  heightened  by 
what  seemed  just  one  glimmering  peep  of  reason,  insuf 
ficient  to  do  him  any  lasting  good,  but  enough,  perhaps, 
to  suggest  a  torment  of  latent  doubts  at  times,  whether 
his  addled  dream  of  glory  were  true. 

Accepting  the  tract  offered  him,  the  cosmopolitan 
glanced  over  it,  and,  seeming  to  see  just  what  it  was,  closed 
it,  put  it  in  his  pocket,  eyed  the  man  a  moment,  then, 
leaning  over  and  presenting  him  with  a  shilling,  said  to 
him,  in  tones  kind  and  considerate :  "  I  am  sorry,  my 
friend,  that  I  happen  to  be  engaged  just  now;  but, 
having  purchased  your  work,  I  promise  myself  much 
satisfaction  in  its  perusal  at  my  earliest  leisure." 

In  his  tattered,  single-breasted  frock-coat,  buttoned 
-  meagerly  up  to  his  chin,  the  shatter-brain  made  him  a 
bow,  which,  for  courtesy,  would  not  have  misbecome  a 
viscount,  then  turned  with  silent  appeal  to  the  stranger. 
But  the  stranger  sat  more  like  a  cold  prism  than  ever, 
while  an  expression  of  keen  Yankee  cuteness,  now  re 
placing  his  former  mystical  one,  lent  added  icicles  to  his 


A      MYSTIC.  305 

aspect.  His  whole  air  said  :  "  Nothing  from  me."  The 
repulsed  petitioner  threw  a  look  full  of  resentful  pride 
and  cracked  disdain  upon  him,  and  went  his  way. 

"  Come,  now,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  a  little  reproach 
fully,  "you  ought  to  have  sympathized  with  that  man; 
tell  me,  did  you  feel  no  fellow-feeling  ?  Look  at  his 
tract  here,  quite  in  the  transcendental  vein." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  the  stranger,  declining  the  tract, 
"  I  never  patronize  scoundrels." 

*;  Scoundrels?" 

"  I  detected  in  him,  sir,  a  damning  peep  of  sense — 
damning,  I  say ;  for  sense  in  a  seeming  madman  is  scoun- 
drelism.  I  take  him  for  a  cunning  vagabond,  who  picks 
up  a  vagabond  living  by  adroitly  playing  the  madman. 
Did  you  not  remark  how  he  flinched  under  my  eye  ?' 

"  Really,"  drawing  a  long,  astonished  breath,  "  I  could 
hardly  have  divined  in  you  a  temper  so  subtlely  dis 
trustful.  Flinched?  to  be  sure  he  did,  poor  fellow; 
you  received  him  with  so  lame  a  welcome.  As  for  his 
adroitly  playing  the  madman,  invidious  critics  might 
object  the  same  to  some  one  or  two  strolling  magi  of 
these  days.  But  that  is  a  matter  I  know  nothing  about. 
But,  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  to  return  to  the 
point :  why  sir,  did  you  warn  me  against  my  friend  ?  I 
shall  rejoice,  if,  as  I  think  it  will  prove,  your  want  of 
confidence  in  my  friend  rests  upon  a  basis  equally  slender 
with  your  distrust  of  the  lunatic.  Come,  why  did  you 
warn  me?  Put  it,  I  beseech,  in  few  words,  and  those 
English." 

"  I  warned  you  against  him  because  he  is  suspected 


306  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

for  what  on  these  boats  is  known — so  they  tell  me — as 
a  Mississippi  operator." 

"  An  operator,  ah?  he  operates,  does  he?  My  friend, 
then  is  something  like  what  the  Indians  call  a  Great 
Medicine,  is  he  ?  He  operates,  he  purges,  he  drains  off 
the  repletions." 

"  I  perceive,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  constitutionally 
obtuse  to  the  pleasant  drollery,  "  that  your  notion,  of 
what  is  called  a  Great  Medicine,  needs  correction.  The 
Great  Medicine  among  the  Indians  is  less  a  bolus  than  a 
man  in  grave  esteem  for  his  politic  sagacity." 

"  And  is  not  my  friend  politic  ?  Is  not  my  friend  saga 
cious  ?  By  your  own  definition,  is  not  my  friend  a  Great 
Medicine  ?" 

"  No,  he  is  an  operator,  a  Mississippi  operator ;  an 
equivocal  character.  That  he  is  such,  I  little  doubt, 
having  had  him  pointed  out  to  me  as  such  by  one  de 
sirous  of  initiating  me  into  any  little  novelty  of  this 
western  region,  where  I  never  before  traveled.  And, 
sir,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  you  also  are  a  stranger  here 
(but,  indeed,  where  in  this  strange  universe  is  not  one  a 
stranger?)  and  that  is  a  reason  why  I  felt  moved  to  warn 
you  against  a  companion  who  could  not  be  otherwise 
than  perilous  to  one  of  a  free  and  trustful  disposition. 
But  I  repeat  the  hope,  that,  thus  far  at  least,  he  has  not 
succeeded  with  you,  and  trust  that,  for  the  future,  he 
will  not." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  concern ;  but  hardly  can  I  equal 
ly  thank  you  for  so  steadily  maintaining  the  hypothesis 
of  my  friend's  objectionableness.  True,  I  but  made  his 


A     MYSTIC.  307 

acquaintance  for  the  first  to-day,  and  know  little  of  his 
antecedents;  but  that  would  seem  no  just  reason  why  a 
nature  like  his  should  not  of  itself  inspire  confidence. 
And  since  your  own  knowledge  of  the  gentleman  is  not, 
by  your  account,  so  exact  as  it  might  be,  you  will  pardon 
me  if  I  decline  to  welcome  any  further  suggestions  un 
flattering  to  him.  Indeed,  sir,"  with  friendly  decision, 
"  let  us  change  the  subject." 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE   MYSTICAL   MASTER   INTRODUCES   THE    PRACTICAL   DISCIPLE. 

"BOTH,  the  subject  and  the  interlocutor,"  replied 
the  stranger  rising,  and  waiting  the  return  towards  him 
of  a  promenader,  that  moment  turning  at  the  further 
end  of  his  walk. 

11  Egbert!"  said  he,  calling. 

Egbert,  a  well-dressed,  commercial-looking  gentleman 
of  about  thirty,  responded  in  a  way  strikingly  deferen 
tial,  and  in  a  moment  stood  near,  in  the  attitude  less  of 
an  equal  companion  apparently  than  a  confidential  fol 
lower. 

"  This,"  said  the  stranger,  taking  Egbert  by  the  hand 
and  leading  him  to  the  cosmopolitan,  "  this  is  Egbert,  a 
disciple.  I  wish  you  to  know  Egbert.  Egbert  was  the 
first  among  mankind  to  reduce  to  practice  the  principles 
of  Mark  Winsome — principles  previously  accounted  as 
less  adapted  to  life  than  the  closet.  Egbert,"  turning 
to  the  disciple,  who,  with  seeming  modesty,  a  little 
shrank  under  these  compliments,  "Egbert,  this,"  with 
a  salute  towards  the  cosmopolitan,  "  is,  like  all  of  us,  a 
stranger.  I  wish  you,  Egbert,  to  know  this  brother 
stranger ;  be  communicative  with  him.  Particularly  if, 


THE      MYSTICAL      MASTER,      ETC.  309 

by  anything  hitherto  dropped,  his  curiosity  has  been 
roused  as  to  the  precise  nature  of  my  philosophy,  I  trust 
you  will  not  leave  such  curiosity  ungratified.  You, 
Egbert,  by  simply  setting  forth  your  practice,  can  do 
more  to  enlighten  one  as  to  my  theory,  than  I  myself 
can  by  mere  speech.  Indeed,  it  is  by  you  that  I  myself 
best  understand  myself.  For  to  every  philosophy  are 
certain  rear  parts,  very  important  parts,  and  these,  like 
the  rear  of  one's  head,  are  best  seen  by  reflection. 
Now,  as  in  a  glass,  you,  Egbert,  in  your  life,  reflect 
to  me  the  more  important  part  of  my  system.  He,  who 
approves  you,  approves  the  philosophy  of  Mark  Win 
some." 

Though  portions  of  this  harangue  may,  perhaps,  in  the 
phraseology  seem  self-complaisant,  yet  no  trace  of  self- 
complacency  was  perceptible  in  the  speaker's  manner, 
which  throughout  was  plain,  unassuming,  dignified,  and 
manly ;  the  teacher  and  prophet  seemed  to  lurk  more 
in  the  idea,  so  to  speak,  than  in  the  mere  bearing  of  him 
who  was  the  vehicle  of  it. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  who  seemed  not  a  little 
interested  in  this  new  aspect  of  matters,  "  you  speak  of 
a  certain  philosophy,  and  a  more  or  less  occult  one  it 
may  be,  and  hint  of  its  bearing  upon  practical  life  ;  pray, 
tell  me,  if  the  study  of  this  philosophy  tends  to  the 
same  formation  of  character  with  the  experiences  of  the 
world  ?" 

"  It  does  ;  and  that  is  the  test  of  its  truth  ;  for  any 
philosophy  that,  being  in  operation  contradictory  to  the 
ways  of  the  world,  tends  to  produce  a  character  at  odds 


310  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

with  it,  such  a  philosophy  must  necessarily  be  but  a 
cheat  and  a  dream." 

"  You  a  little  surprise  me,"  answered  the  cosmopoli 
tan  ;  "  for,  from  an  occasional  profundity  in  you,  and  also 
from  your  allusions  to  a  profound  work  on  the  theology 
of  Plato,  it  would  seem  but  natural  to  surmise  that,  if 
you  are  the  originator  of  any  philosophy,  it  must  needs 
so  partake  of  the  abstruse,  as  to  exalt  it  above  the  com 
paratively  vile  uses  of  life." 

"  No  uncommon  mistake  with  regard  to  me,"  rejoined 
the  other.  Then  meekly  standing  like  a  Raphael:  "  If 
still  in  golden  accents  old  Memnon  murmurs  his  riddle, 
none  the  less  does  the  balance-sheet  of  every  man's 
ledger  unriddle  the  profit  or  loss  of  life.  Sir,"  with  calm 
energy,  "  man  came  into  this  world,  not  to  sit  down  and 
muse,  not  to  befog  himself  with  vain  subtleties,  but  to 
gird  up  his  loins  and  to  work.  Mystery  is  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  mystery  in  the  night,  and  the  beauty  of  mystery 
is  everywhere;  but  still  the  plain  truth  remains,  that 
mouth  and  purse  must  be  filled.  If,  hitherto,  you  have 
supposed  me  a  visionary,  be  undeceived.  I  am  no  one- 
ideaed  one-,  either ;  no  more  than  the  seers  before  me. 
Was  not  Seneca  a  usurer  ?  Bacon  a  courtier  ?  and  Swe- 
denborg,  though  with  one  eye  on  the  invisible,  did  he 
not  keep  the  other  on  the  main  chance  ?  Along  with 
whatever  else  it  may  be  given  me  to  be,  I  am  a  man  of 
serviceable  knowledge,  and  a  man  of  the  world.  Know 
me  for  such.  And  as  for  my  disciple  here,"  turning  to 
wards  him,  "  if  you  look  to  find  any  soft  Utopianisma 
and  last  year's  sunsets  in  him,  I  smile  to  think  how  he 


THE      MYSTICAL      MASTER,      ETC.  311 

will  set  you  right.  The  doctrines  I  have  taught  him 
will,  I  trust,  lead  him  neither  to  the  mad-house  nor  the 
poor-house,  as  so  many  other  doctrines  have  served  cre 
dulous  sticklers.  Furthermore,"  glancing  upon  him 
paternally,  "Egbert  is  both  my  disciple  and  my  poet. 
For  poetry  is  not  a  thing  of  ink  and  rhyme,  but  of 
thought  and  act,  and,  in  the  latter  way,  is  by  any  one  to 
be  found  anywhere,  when  in  useful  action  sought.  In 
a  word,  my  disciple  here  is  a  thriving  young  merchant, 
a  practical  poet  in  the  West  India  trade.  There,"  pre 
senting  Egbert's  hand  to  the  cosmopolitan,  "  I  join  you, 
and  leave  you."  With  which  words,  and  without  bow 
ing,  the  master  withdrew. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

THE  DISCIPLE  UNBENDS,  AND  CONSENTS  TO  ACT  A  SOCIAL  PART. 

IN  the  master's  presence  the  disciple  had  stood  as  one 
not  ignorant  of  his  place ;  modesty  was  in  his  expres 
sion,  with  a  sort  of  reverential  depression.  But  the 
presence  of  the  superior  withdrawn,  he  seemed  lithely 
to  shoot  up  erect  from  beneath  it,  like  one  of  those  wire 
men  from  a  toy  snuft-box. 

He  was,  as  before  said,  a  young  man  of  about  thirty. 
His  countenance  of  that  neuter  sort,  which,  in  repose, 
is  neither  prepossessing  nor  disagreeable;  so  that  it 
seemed  quite  uncertain  how  he  would  turn  out.  His 
dress  was  neat,  with  just  enough  of  the  mode  to  save  ifc 
from  the  reproach  of  originality ;  in  which  general 
respect,  though  with  a  readjustment  of  details,  his  cos 
tume  seemed  modeled  upon  his  master's.  But,  upon  the 
whole,  he  was,  to  all  appearances,  the  last  person  in  the 
world  that  one  would  take  for  the  disciple  of  any  tran 
scendental  philosophy ;  though,  indeed,  something 
about  his  sharp  nose  and  shaved  chin  seemed  to  hint 
that  if  mysticism,  as  a  lesson,  ever  came  in  his  way,  he 
might,  with  the  characteristic  knack  of  a  true  New- 


THE      DISCIPLE      UNBENDS,      ETC.  313 

Englander,  turn  even  so  profitless  a  thing  to  some  pro 
fitable  account. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  now  familiarly  seating  himself  in  the 
vacated  chair,  "  what  do  you  think  of  Mark  ?  Sublime 
fellow,  ain't  he  ?" 

"  That  each  member  of  the  human  guild  is  worthy 
respect  my  friend,"  rejoined  the  cosmopolitan,  "is  a 
fact  which  no  admirer  of  that  guild  will  question  ;  but 
that,  in  view  of  higher  natures,  the  word  sublime,  so  fre 
quently  applied  to  them,  can,  without  confusion,  be  also 
applied  to  man,  is  a  point  which  man  will  decide  for 
himself;  though,  indeed,  if  he  decide  it  in  the  affirma 
tive,  it  is  not  for  me  to  object.  But  I  am  curious  to 
know  more  of  that  philosophy  of  which,  at  present,  I 
have  but  inklings.  You,  its  first  disciple  among  men, 
it  seems,  are  peculiarly  qualified  to  expound  it.  Have 
you  any  objections  to  begin  now?" 

"  None  at  all,"  squaring  himself  to  the  table.  "  Where 
shall  I  begin  ?  At  first  principles  ?" 

"You  remember  that  it  was  in  a  practical  way  that 
you  were  represented  as  being  fitted  for  the  clear  expo 
sition.  Now,  what  you  call  first  principles,  I  have,  in 
some  things,  found  to  be  more  or  less  vague.  Permit 
me,  then,  in  a  plain  way,  to  suppose  some  common  case 
in  real  life,  and  that  done,  I  would  like  you  to  tell  me 
how  you,  the  practical  disciple  of  the  philosophy  I  wish 
to  know  about,  would,  in  that  case,  conduct." 

"  A  business-like  view.     Propose  the  case." 

"  Not  only  the  case,  but  the  persons.     The  case  is 

this:    There  are   two  friends,  friends   from  childhood, 

14 


314  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

bosom-friends ;  one  of  whom,  for  the  first  time,  being  in 
need,  for  the  first  time  seeks  a  loan  from  the  other,  who, 
so  far  as  fortune  goes,  is  more  than  competent  to  grant 
it.  And  the  persons  are  to  be  you  and  I :  you,  the  friend 
from  whom  the  loan  is  sought — I,  the  friend  who  seeks 
it ;  you,  the  disciple  of  the  philosophy  in  question — I, 
a  common  man,  with  no  more  philosophy  than  to  know 
that  when  I  am  comfortably  warm  I  don't  feel  cold, 
and  when  I  have  the  ague  I  shake.  Mind,  now,  you 
must  work  up  your  imagination,  and,  as  much  as  pos 
sible,  talk  and  behave  just  as  if  the  case  supposed  were 
a  fact.  For  brevity,  you  shall  call  me  Frank,  and  I  will 
call  you  Charlie.  Are  you  agreed  ?" 

"  Perfectly.     You  begin." 

The  cosmopolitan  paused  a  moment,  then,  assuming  a 
serious  and  care-worn  air,  suitable  to  the  part  to  be 
enacted,  addressed  his  hypothesized  freind. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

THE   HYPOTHETICAL   FKIEXDS. 

"  CHARLIE,  I  am  going  to  put  confidence  in  you." 

"  You  always  have,  and  with  reason.  What  is  it 
Frank?" 

"  Charlie,  I  am  in  want — urgent  want  of  money." 

"  That's  not  well." 

"  But  it  will  be  well,  Charlie,  if  you  loan  me  a  hun 
dred  dollars.  I  would  not  ask  this  of  you,  only  my 
need  is  sore,  and  you  and  I  have  so  long  shared  hearts 
and  minds  together,  however  unequally  on  my  side,  that 
nothing  remains  to  prove  our  friendship  than,  with  the 
same  inequality  on  my  side,  to  share  purses.  You  will 
do  me  the  favor,  won't  you  ?" 

"Favor?  What  do  you,  mean  by  asking  me  to  do 
you  a  favor  ?" 

"  Why,  Charlie,  you  never  used  to  talk  so." 

"  Because,  Frank,  you  on  your  side,  never  used  to 
talk  so." 

"  But  won't  you  loan  me  the  money  ?" 

"No,  Frank." 

".Why?" 

"  Because  my  rule  forbids.     I  give  away  money,  but 


316  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

never  loan  it ;  and  of  course  the  man  who  calls  him 
self  my  friend  is  above  receiving  alms.  The  negotia 
tion  of  a  loan  is  a  business  transaction.  And  I  will 
transact  no  business  with  a  friend.  What  a  friend  is,  he 
is  socially  and  intellectually;  and  I  rate  social  and  in 
tellectual  friendship  too  high  to  degrade  it  on  either 
side  into  a  pecuniary  make-shift.  To  be  sure  there  are, 
and  I  have,  what  is  called  business  friends ;  that  is,  com 
mercial  acquaintances,  very  convenient  persons.  But 
I  draw  a  red-ink  line  between  them  and  my  friends 
in  the  true  sense — my  friends  social  and  intellectual. 
In  brief,  a  true  friend  has  nothing  to  do  with  loans ; 
he  should  have  a  soul  above  loans.  Loans  are  such 
unfriendly  accommodations  as  are  to  be  had  from  the 
soulless  corporation  of  a  bank,  by  giving  'the  regular 
security  and  paying  the  regular  discount." 

"  An  unfriendly  accommodation  ?  Do  those  words  go 
together  handsomely  ?" 

"Like  the  poor  farmer's  team,  of  an  old  man  and 
a  cow — not  handsomely,  but  to  the  purpose.  Look, 
Frank,  a  loan  of  money  on"  interest  is  a  sale  of  money 
on  credit.  To  sell  a  thing  on  credit  may  be  an 
accommodation,  but  where  is  the  friendliness?  Few 
men  in  their  senses,  except  operators,  borrow  money  on 
interest,  except  upon  a  necessity  akin  to  starvation. 
Well,  now,  where  is  the  friendliness  of  my  letting  a 
starving  man  have,  say,  the  money's  worth  of  a  barrel  of 
flour  upon  the  condition  that,  on  a  given  day,  he  shall  let 
me  have  the  money's  worth  of  a  barrel  and  a  half  of  flour ; 
especially  if  I  add  this  further  proviso,  that  if  he  fail  so 


THE      HYPOTHETICAL     FRIENDS.  317 

to  do,  I  shall  then,  to  secure  to  myself  the  money's 
worth  of  my  barrel  and  his  half  barrel,  put  his  heart  up 
at  public  auction,  and,  as  it  is  cruel  to  part  families, 
throw  in  his  wife's  and  children's  ?" 

"I  understand,"  with  a  pathetic  shudder;  "  but  even 
did  it  come  to  that,  such  a  step  on  the  creditor's  part, 
let  us,  for  the  honor  of  human  nature,  hope,  were  less 
the  intention  than  the  contingency." 

"  But,  Frank,  a  contingency  not  unprovided  for  in 
the  taking  beforehand  of  due  securities." 

"  Still,  Charlie,  was  not  the  loan  in  the  first  place  a 
friend's  act?" 

"  And  the  auction  in  the  last  place  an  enemy's  act. 
Don't  you  see  ?  The  enmity  lies  couched  in  the  friend 
ship,  just  as  the  ruin  in  the  relief." 

"  I  must  be  very  stupid  to-day,  Charlie,  but  really, 
I  can't  understand  this.  Excuse  me,  my  dear  friend,  but 
it  strikes  me  that  in  going  into  the  philosophy  of  the 
subject,  you  go  somewhat  out  of  your  depth." 

"  So  said  the  incautious  wader-out  to  the  ocean  ;  but 
the  ocean  replied:  'It  is  just  the  other  way,  my  wet 
friend,'  and  drowned  him." 

"  That,  Charlie,  is  a  fable  about  as  unjust  to  the 
ocean,  as  some  of  -ZEsop's  are  to  the  animals.  The  ocean 
is  a  magnanimous  element,  and  would  scorn  to  assassi 
nate  a  poor  fellow,  let  alone  taunting  him  in  the  act. 
But  I  don't  understand  what  you  say  about  enmity 
couched  in  friendship,  and  rifin  in  relief." 

"I  will  illustrate,  Frank.  The  needy  man  is  a  train 
slipped  off  the  rail.  He  who  loans  him  money  on  inter- 


THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

est  is  the  one  who,  by  way  of  accommodation,  helps 
get  the  train  back  where  it  belongs ;  but  then,  by  way 
of  making  all  square,  and  a  little  more,  telegraphs  to  an 
agent,  thirty  miles  a-head  by  a  precipice,  to  throw  just 
there,  on  his  account,  a  beam  across  the  track.  Your 
needy  man's  principle-and-interest  friend  is,  I  say 
again,  a  friend  with  an  enmity  in  reserve.  No,  no,  my 
dear  friend,  no  interest  for  me.  I  scorn  interest." 

"  Well,  Charlie,  none  need  you  charge.  Loan  me 
without  interest." 

"  That  would  be  alms  again." 
"  Alms,  if  the  sum  borrowed  is  returned  ?" 
"  Yes :  an  alms,  not  of  the  principle,  but  the  inter 
est." 

"Well,  I  am  in  sore  need,  so  I  will  not  decline  the 
alms.  Seeing  that  it  is  you,  Charlie,  gratefully  will  I 
accept  the  alms  of  the  interest.  No  humiliation  be 
tween  friends." 

"  Now,  how  in  the  refined  view  of  friendship  can  you 
suffer  yourself  to  talk  so,  my  dear  Frank.  It  pains  me. 
For  though  I  am  not  of  the  sour  mind  of  Solomon,  that, 
in  the  hour  of  need,  a  stranger  is  better  than  a  brother ; 
yet,  I  entirely  agree  with  my  sublime  master,  who,  in  his 
Essay  on  Friendship,  says  so  nobly,  that  if  he  want  a 
terrestrial  convenience,  not  to  his  friend  celestial  (or 
friend  social  and  intellectual)  would  he  go  ;  no  :  for  his 
terrestial  convenience,  to  his  friend  terrestrial  (or  hum 
bler  business-friend)  he  goes.  Very  lucidly  he  adds  the 
reason :  Because,  for  the  superior  nature,  which  on  no 
account  can  ever  descend  to  do  good,  to  be  annoyed 


THE      HYPOTHETICAL      FRIENDS.  319 

with  requests  to  do  it,  when  the  inferior  one,  which  by 
no  instruction  can  ever  rise  above  that  capacity,  stands 
always  inclined  to  it — this  is  unsuitable." 

"  Then  I  will  not  consider  you  as  my  friend  celestial, 
but  as  the  other." 

"It  racks  me  to  come  to  that;  but,  to  oblige  you,  I'll 
do  it.  We  are  business  friends  ;  business  is  business. 
You  want  to  negotiate  a  loan.  Very  good.  On  what 
paper  ?  Will  you  pay  three  per  cent,  a  month  ?  Where 
is  your  security?" 

"  Surely,  you  will  not  exact  those  formalities  from 
your  old  schoolmate — him  with  whom  you  have  so  often 
sauntered  down  the  groves  of  Academe,  discoursing  of 
the  beauty  of  virtue,  and  the  grace  that  is  in  kindliness — 
and  all  for  so  paltry  a  sum.  Security  ?  Our  being  fellow- 
academics,  and  friends  from  childhood  up,  is  security." 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  Frank,  our  being  fellow-acade 
mics  is  the  worst  of  securities  ;  while,  our  having  been 
friends  from  childhood  up  is  just  no  security  at  all. 
You  forget  we  are  now  business  friends." 

"  And  you,  on  your  side,  forget,  Charlie,  that  as  your 
business  friend  I  can  give  you  no  security  ;  my  need  be 
ing  so  sore  that  I  cannot  get  an  indorser." 

"  No  indorser,  then,  no  business  loan." 

"  Since  then,  Charlie,  neither  as  the  one  nor  the  other 
sort  of  friend  you  have  defined,  can  I  prevail  with  you  ; 
how  if,  combining  the  two,  I  sue  as  both?" 

"  Are  you  a  centaur?" 

"  When  all  is  said  then,  what  good  have  I  of  your 

friendship,  regarded  in  what  light  you  will  ?" 
14* 


320  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

"  The  good  which  is  in  the  philosophy  of  Mark  Win 
some,  as  reduced  to  practice  by  a  practical  disciple." 

"  And  why  don't  you  add,  much  good  may  the  philo 
sophy  of  Mark  Winsome  do  me?  Ah,"  turning  invok- 
ingly,  "  what  is  friendship,  if  it  be  not  the  helping  hand 
and  the  feeling  heart,  the  good  Samaritan  pouring  out 
at  need  the  purse  as  the  vial !" 

"  Now,  my  dear  Frank,  don't  be  childish.  Through 
tears  never  did  man  see  his  way  in  the  dark.  I  should 
hold  you  unworthy  that  sincere  friendship  I  bear  you, 
could  I  think  that  friendship  in  the  ideal  is  too  lofty  for 
you  to  conceive.  And  let  me  tell  you,  my  dear  Frank, 
that  you  would  seriously  shake  the  foundations  of  our 
love,  if  ever  again  you  should  repeat  the  present  scene. 
The  philosophy,  which  is  mine  in  the  strongest  way, 
teaches  plain-dealing.  Let  me,  then,  now,  as  at  the  most 
suitable  time,  candidly  disclose  certain  circumstances 
you  seem  in  ignorance  of.  Though  our  friendship  began 
in  boyhood,  think  not  that,  on  my  side  at  least,  it  began 
injudiciously.  Boys  are  little  men,  it  is  said.  You,  I 
juvenilely  picked  out  for  my  friend,  for  your  favorable 
points  at  the  time ;  not  the  least  of  which  were  your  good 
manners,  handsome  dress,  and  your  parents'  rank  and 
repute  of  wealth.  In  short,  like  any  grown  man,  boy 
though  I  was,  I  went  into  the  market  and  chose  me  my 
mutton,  not  for  its  leanness,  but  its  fatness.  In  other 
words,  there  seemed  in  you,  the  schoolboy  .who  always 
had  silver  in  his  pocket,  a  reasonable  probability  that 
you  would  never  stand  in  lean  need  of  fat  succor ;  and  if 
my  early  impression  has. not  been  verified  by  the  event, 


THE      HYPOTHETICAL      FRIENDS.  321 

it  is  only  because  of  the  caprice  of  fortune  producing  a 
fallibility  of  human  expectations,  however  discreet." 

"  Oh,  that  I  should  listen  to  this  cold-blooded  disclo 
sure  !" 

"  A  little  cold  blood  in  your  ardent  veins,  my  dear 
Frank,  wouldn't  do  you  any  harm,  let  me  tell  you. 
Cold-blooded  ?  You  say  that,  because  my  disclosure 
seems  to  involve  a  vile  prudence  on  my  side.  But  not 
so.  My  reason  for  choosing  you  in  part  for  the  points  I 
have  mentioned,  was  solely  with  a  view  of  preserving 
inviolate  the  delicacy  of  the  connection.  For — do  but 
think  of  it — what  more  distressing  to  delicate  friendship, 
formed  early,  than  your  friend's  eventually,  in  manhood, 
dropping  in  of  a  rainy  night  for  his  little  loan  of  five 
dollars  or  so?  Can  delicate  friendship  stand  that? 
And,  on  the  other  side,  would  delicate  friendship,  so 
long  as  it  retained  its  delicacy,  do  that  ?  Would  you 
not  instinctively  say  of  your  dripping  friend  in  the  entry, 
*  I  have  been  deceived,  fraudulently  deceived,  in  this 
man  ;  he  is  no  true  friend  that,  in  platonic  love  to  de 
mand  love-rites  ?' ' 

"And  rites,  doubly  rights,  they  are,  cruel  Charlie  !" 

"  Take  it  how  you  will,  heed  well  how,  by  too  impor 
tunately  claiming  those  rights,  as  you  call  them,  you 
shake  those  foundations  I  hinted  of.  For  though,  as  it 
turns  out,  I,  in  my  early  friendship,  built  me  a  fair  house 
on  a  poor  site ;  yet  such  pains  and  cost  have  I  lavished 
on  that  house,  that,  after  all,  it  is  dear  to  me.  No,  I 
would  not  lose  the  sweet  boon  of  your  friendship,  Frank. 
But  beware." 


322  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  And  of  what?  Of  being  in  need?  Oh,  Charlie  ! 
you  talk  not  to  a  god,  a  being  who  in  himself  holds  his 
own  estate,  but  to  a  man  who,  being  a  man,  is  the  sport 
of  fate's  wind  and  wave,  and  who  mounts  towards  heaven 
or  sinks  towards  hell,  as  the  billows  roll  him  in  trough 
or  on  crest." 

"  Tut !  Frank.  Man  is  no  such  poor  devil  as  that 
comes  to — no  poor  drifting  sea-weed  of  the  universe. 
Man  has  a  soul ;  which,  if  he  will,  puts  him  beyond  for 
tune's  finger  and  the  future's  spite.  Don't  whine  like 
fortune's  whipped  dog,  Frank,  or  by  the  heart  of  a  true 
friend,  I  will  cut  ye." 

"  Cut  me  you  have  already,  cruel  Charlie,  and  to  the 
quick.  Call  to  mind  the  days  we  went  nutting,  the 
times  we  walked  in  the  woods,  arms  wreathed  about 
each  other,  showing  trunks  invined  like  the  trees : — oh, 
Charlie !" 

"  Pish  !  we  were  boys." 

"  Then  lucky  the  fate  of  the  first-born  of  Egypt,  cold 
in  the  grave  ere  maturity  struck  them  with  a  sharper 
frost.— Charlie  ?" 

"  Fie  !  you're  a  girl." 

"  Help,  help,  Charlie,  I  want  help  !" 

"  Help  ?  to  say  nothing  of  the  friend,  there  is  some 
thing  wrong  about  the  man  who  wants  help.  There  is 
somewhere  a  defect,  a  want,  in  brief,  a  need,  a  crying 
need,  somewhere  about  that  man." 

"  So  there  is,  Charlie.— Help,  Help  !" 

"  How  foolish  a  cry,  when  to  implore  help,  is  itself 
the  proof  of  undesert  of  it. 


THE      HYPOTHETICAL      FRIENDS.  323 

"  Oh,  "this,  all  along,  is  not  you,  Charlie,  but  some 
ventriloquist  who  usurps  your  larynx.  It  is  Mark  Win 
some  that  speaks,  not  Charlie. 

"  If  so,  thank  heaven,  the  voice  of  Mark  Winsome  is 
not  alien  but  congenial  to  my  larynx.  If  the  philoso 
phy  of  that  illustrious  teacher  find  little  response  among 
mankind  at  large,  it  is  less  that  they  do  not  possess 
teachable  tempers,  than  because  they  are  so  unfortunate 
as  not  to  have  natures  predisposed  to  accord  with  him. 

"  Welcome,  that  compliment  to  humanity,"  exclaimed 
Frank  with  energy,  "the  truer  because  unintended. 
And  long  in  this  respect  may  humanity  remain  what 
you  affirm  it.  And  long  it  will ;  since  humanity,  in 
wardly  feeling  how  subject  it  is  to  straits,  and  hence 
how  precious  is  help,  will,  for  selfishness'  sake,  if  no 
other,  long  postpone  ratifying  a  philosophy  that  banishes 
help  from  the  world.  But  Charlie,  Charlie  !  speak  as 
you  used  to  ;  tell  me  you  will  help  me.  Were  the  case 
reversed,  not  less  freely  would  I  loan  you  the  money 
than  you  would  ask  me  to  loan  it. 

"  /ask?  Jask  a  loan?  Frank,  by  this  hand,  under 
no  circumstances  would  I  accept  a  loan,  though  with 
out  asking  pressed  on  me.  The  experience  of  China 
Aster  might  warn  me." 

"  And  what  was  that  ?" 

"  Not  very  unlike  the  experience  of  the  man  that 
built  himself  a  palace  of  moon-beams,  and  when  the  moon 
set  was  surprised  that  his  palace  vanished  with  it.  I 
will  tell  you  about  China  Aster.  I  wish  I  could  do  so 
in  my  own  words,  but  unhappily  the  original  story- 


324  THE      COX  FIDE  XCE-MAN. 

teller  here  has  so  tyrannized  over  me,  that  it  is  quite 
impossible  for  me  to  repeat  his  incidents  without  sliding 
into  his  style.  I  forewarn  you  of  this,  that  you  may 
not  think  me  so  maudlin  as,  in  some  parts,  the  story 
would  seem  to  make  its  narrator.  It  is  too  bad  that 
any  intellect,  especially  in  so  small  a  matter,  should 
have  such  power  to  impose  itself  upon  another,  against 
its  best  exerted  will,  too.  However,  it  is  satisfaction  to 
know  that  the  main  moral,  to  which  all  tends,  I  fully 
approve.  But,  to  begin." 


CHAPTER    XL. 

IN  WHICH  THE  STORY  OF  CHINA  ASTER  IS  AT  SECOND-HAND  TOLD  BY 
ONE  WHO,  WHILE  NOT  DISAPPROVING  THE  MORAL,  DISCLAIMS  THE 
SPIRIT  OF  THE  STYLE. 

"  CHINA  ASTER  was  a  young  candle-maker  of  Marietta, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Muskingum — one  whose  trade  would 
seem  a  kind  of  subordinate  branch  of  that  parent  craft 
and  mystery  of  the  hosts  of  heaven,  to  be  the  means, 
effectively  or  otherwise,  of  shedding  some  light  through 
the  darkness  of  a  planet  benighted.  But  he  made  little 
money  by  the  business.  Much  ado  had  poor  China 
Aster  and  his  family  to  live ;  he  could,  if  he  chose,  light 
up  from  his  stores  a  whole  street,  but  not  so  easily 
could  he  light  up  with  prosperity  the  hearts  of  his 
household. 

"  Now,  China  Aster,  it  so  happened,  had  a  friend, 
Orchis,  a  shoemaker ;  one  whose  calling  it  is  to  defend 
the  understandings  of  men  from  naked  contact  with  the 
substance  of  things  :  a  very  useful  vocation,  and  which, 
spite  of  all  the  wiseacres  may  prophesy,  will  hardly  go 
out  of  fashion  so  long  as  rocks  are  hard  and  flints  will 
gall.  All  at  once,  by  a  capital  prize  in  a  lottery,  this 
useful  shoemaker  was  raised  from  a  bench  to  a  sofa.  A 
small  nabob  was  the  shoemaker  now,  and  the  under 
standings  of  men,  let  them  shift  for  themselves.  Not 


326  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

that  Orchis  was,  by  prosperity,  elated  into  heartlessness 
Not  at  all.  Because,  in  his  fine  apparel,  strolling  one 
morning  into  the  candlery,  and  gayly  switching  about 
at  the  candle-boxes  with  his  gold-headed  cane — while 
poor  China  Aster,  with  his  greasy  paper  cap  and  leather 
apron,  was  selling  one  candle  for  one  penny  to  a  poor 
orange-woman,  who,  with  the  patronizing  coolness  of  a 
liberal  customer,  required  it  to  be  carefully  rolled  up 
and  tied  in  a  half  sheet  of  paper — lively  Orchis,  the 
woman  being  gone,  discontinued  his  gay  switchings  and 
said :  *  This  is  poor  business  for  you,  friend  China 
Aster ;  your  capital  is  too  small.  You  must  drop  this 
vile  tallow  and  hold  up  pure  spermaceti  to  the  world. 
I  tell  you  what  it  is,  you  shall  have  one  thousand  dol 
lars  to  extend  with.  In  fact,  you  must  make  money, 
China  Aster.  I  don't  like  to  see  your  little  boy  paddling 
about  without  shoes,  as  he  does.' 

"  *  Heaven  bless  your  goodness,  friend  Orchis,'  replied 
the  candle-maker,  'but  don't  take  it  illy  if  I  call  to 
mind  the  word  of  my  uncle,  the  blacksmith,  who,  when 
a  loan  was  offered  him,  declined  it,  saying  :  "  To  ply  my 
own  hammer,  light  though  it  be,  I  think  best,  rather 
than  piece  it  out  heavier  by  welding  to  it  a  bit  off  a 
neighbor's  hammer,  though  that  may  have  some  weight 
to  spare ;  otherwise,  were  the  borrowed  bit  suddenly 
wanted  again,  it  might  not  split  off  at  the  welding,  but 
too  much  to  one  side  or  the  other." 

"  '  Nonsense,  friend  China  Aster,  don't  be  so  honest ; 
your  boy  is  barefoot.  Besides,  a  rich  man  lose  by  a 
poor  man  ?  Or  a  friend  be  the  worse  by  a  friend  ? 


THE      STORY      OF      CHINA      ASTER.  327 

China  Aster,  I  am  afraid  that,  in  leaning  over  into  your 
vats  here,  this  morning,  you  have  spilled  out  your  wis 
dom.  Hush  !  I  won't  hear  any  more.  Where's  your 
desk  ?  Oh,  here.'  With  that,  Orchis  dashed  off  a  check 
on  his  bank,  and  off-handedly  presenting  it,  said : 
*  There,  friend  China  Aster,  is  your  one  thousand  dol 
lars  ;  when  you  make  it  ten  thousand,  as  you  soon 
enough  will  (for  experience,  the  only  true  knowledge, 
teaches  me  that,  for  every  one,  good  luck  is  in  store), 
then,  China  Aster,  why,  then  you  can  return  me  the 
money  or  not,  just  as  you  please.  But,  in  any  event, 
give  yourself  no  concern,  for  I  shall  never  demand  pay 
ment.' 

"  Now,  as  kind  heaven  will  so  have  it  that  to  a 
hungry  man  bread  is  a  great  temptation,  and,  therefore, 
he  is  not  too  harshly  to  be  blamed,  if,  when  freely 
offered,  he  take  it,  even  though  it  be  uncertain  whether 
he  shall  ever  be  able  to  reciprocate  ;  so,  to  a  poor  man, 
proffered  money  is  equally  enticing,  and  the  worst  that 
can  be  said  of  him,  if  he  accept  it,  is  just  what  can  be 
said  in  the  other  case  of  the  hungry  man.  In  short,  the 
poor  candle-maker's  scrupulous  morality  succumbed  to 
his  unscrupulous  necessity,  as  is  now  and  then  apt  to  be 
the  case.  He  took  the  check,  and  was  about  carefully 
putting  it  away  for  the  present,  when  Orchis,  switching 
about  again  with  his  gold-headed  cane,  said :  '  By-the- 
way,  China  Aster,  it  don't  mean  anything,  but  suppose 
you  make  a  little  memorandum  of  this ;  won't  do  any 
harm,  you  know.'  So  China  Aster  gave  Orchis  his  note 
for  one  thousand  dollars  on  demand.  Orchis  took  it,  and 


328     -  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

looked  at  it  a  moment,  '  Pooh,  I  told  you,  friend  China 
Aster,  I  wasn't  going  ever  to  make  any  demand.1  Then 
tearing  up  the  note,  and  switching  away  again  at  the 
candle-boxes,  said,  carelessly  ;  « Put  it  at  four  years.' 
So  China  Aster  gave  Orchis  his  note  for  one  thousand 
dollars  at  four  years.  « You  see  I'll  never  trouble  you 
about  this,'  said  Orchis,  slipping  it  in  his  pocket-book, 
'  give  yourself  no  further  thought,  friend  China  Aster, 
than  how  best  to  invest  your  money.  And  don't  forget 
my  hint  about  spermaceti.  Go  into  that,  and  I'll  buy 
all  my  light  of  you,'  with  which  encouraging  words,  he, 
with  wonted,  rattling  kindness,  took  leave. 

"  China  Aster  remained  standing  just  where  Orchis 
had  left  him ;  when,  suddenly,  two  elderly  friends, 
having  nothing  better  to  do,  dropped  in  for  a  chat. 
The  chat  over,  China  Aster,  in  greasy  cap  and  apron, 
ran  after  Orchis,  and  said :  *  Friend  Orchis,  heaven 
will  reward  you  for  your  good  intentions,  but  here  is 
your  check,  and  now  give  me  my  note.' 

"  '  Your  honesty  is  a  bore,  China  Aster,'  said  Orchis,  not 
without  displeasure.  '  I  won't  take  the  check  from  you.' 

11 '  Then  you  must  take  it  from  the  pavement,  Orchis,' 
said  China  Aster ;  and,  picking  up  a  stone,  he  placed 
the  check  under  it  on  the  walk. 

"  '  China  Aster,'  said  Orchis,  inquisitively  eying  him, 
« after  my  leaving  the  candlery  just  now,  what  asses 
dropped  in  there  to  advise  with  you,  that  now  you  hur 
ry  after  me,  and  act  so  like  a  fool  ?  Shouldn't  wonder 
if  it  was  those  two  old  asses  that  the  boys  nickname 
Old  Plain  Talk  and  Old  Prudence.' 


THE   STORY   OF   CHINA   ASTER.     329 

"  *  Yes,  it  was  those  two,  Orchis,  but  don't  call  them 
names.' 

"  '  A  brace  of  spavined  old  croakers.  Old  Plain  Talk 
had  a  shrew  for  a  wife,  and  that's  made  him  shrewish  ; 
and  Old  Prudence,  when  a  boy,  broke  down  in  an  apple- 
stall,  and  that  discouraged  him  for  life.  No  better  sport 
for  a  knowing  spark  like  me  than  to  hear  Old  Plain  Talk 
wheeze  out  his  sour  old  saws,  while  Old  Prudence  stands 
by,  leaning  on  his  staff,  wagging  his  frosty  old  pow,  and 
chiming  in  at  every  clause.' 

"  '  How  can  you  speak  so,  friend  Orchis,  of  those  who 
were  my  father's  friends  ?' 

"  '  Save  me  from  my  friends,  if  those  old  croakers  were 
Old  Honesty's  friends.  I  call  your  father  so,  for  every 
one  used  to.  Why  did  they  let  him  go  in  his  old  age  on 
the  town?  Why,  China  Aster,  I've  often  heard  from 
my  mother,  the  chronicler,  that  those  two  old  fellows, 
with  Old  Conscience — as  the  boys  called  the  crabbed  old 
quaker,  that's  dead  now — they  three  used  to  go  to  the 
poor-house  when  your  father  was  there,  and  get  round 
his  bed,  and  talk  to  him  for  all  the  world  as  Eliphaz, 
Bildad,  and  Zophar  did  to  poor  old  pauper  Job.  Yes, 
Job's  comforters  were  Old  Plain  Talk,  and  Old  Pru 
dence,  and  Old  Conscience,  to  your  poor  old  father. 
Friends  ?  I  should  like  to  know  who  you  call  foes  ? 
With  their  everlasting  croaking  and  reproaching  they 
tormented  poor  Old  Honesty,  your  father,  to  death.' 

"  At  these  words,  recalling  the  sad  end  of  his  worthy 
parent,  China  Aster  could  not  restrain  some  tears.  Upon 
which  Orchis  said:  'Why,  China  Aster,  you  are  the 


330  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

dolefulest  creature.  Why  don't  you,  China  Aster,  take 
a  bright  view  of  life  ?  You  will  never  get  on  in  your 
business  or  anything  else,  if  you  don't  take  the  bright  view 
of  life.  It's  the  ruination  of  a  man  to  take  the  dismal 
one.'  Then,  gayly  poking  at  him  with  his  gold-headed 
cane,  *  Why  don't  you,  then  ?  Why  don't  you  be  bright 
and  hopeful,  like  me  ?  Why  don't  you  have  confidence, 
China  Aster?' 

"'I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  friend  Orchis,'  sober 
ly  replied  China  Aster,  '  but  may  be  my  not  having 
drawn  a  lottery-prize,  like  you,  may  make  some  differ 
ence.' 

"  'Nonsense!  before  I  knew  anything  about  the  prize 
I  was  gay  as  a  lark,  just  as  gay  as  I  am  now.  In  fact, 
it  has  always  been  a  principle  with  me  to  hold  to  the 
bright  view.' 

"  Upon  this,  China  Aster  looked  a  little  hard  at  Orchis, 
because  the  truth  was,  that  until  the  lucky  prize  came 
to  him,  Orchis  had  gone  under  the  nickname  of  Doleful 
Dumps,  he  having  been  before  times  of  a  hypochondriac 
turn,  so  much  so  as  to  save  up  and  put  by  a  few  dollars 
of  his  scanty  earnings  against  that  rainy  day  he  used  to 
groan  so  much  about. 

"  « I  tell  you  what  it  is,  now,  friend  China  Aster,'  said 
Orchis,  pointing  down  to  the  check  under  the  stone,  and 
then  slapping  his  pocket,  '.the  check  shall  lie  there  if 
you  say  so,  but  your  note  shan't  keep  it  company.  In 
fact,  China  Aster^  I  am  too  sincerely  your  friend  to  take 
advantage  of  a  passing  fit  of  the  blues  in  you.  You  shall 
reap  the  benefit  of  my  friendship.'  With  which,  but- 


THE   STORY  OF   CHINA   ASTER.     331 

toning  up  his  coat  in  a  jiffy,  away  he  ran.,  leaving  the 
check  behind. 

"  At  first,  China  Aster  was  going  to  tear  it  up,  but 
thinking  that  this  ought  not  to  be  done  except  in  the 
presence  of  the  drawer  of  the  check,  he  mused  a  while, 
and  picking  it  up,  trudged  back  to  the  candlery,  fully 
resolved  to  call  upon  Orchis  soon  as  his  day's  work  was 
over,  arid  destroy  the  check  before  his  eyes.  But  it  so 
happened  that  when  China  Aster  called,  Orchis  was  out, 
and,  having  waited  for  him  a  weary  time  in  vain,  China 
Aster  went  home,  still  with  the  check,  but  still  resolved 
not  to  keep  it  another  day.  Bright  and  early  next 
morning  he  would  a  second  time  go  after  Orchis,  and 
would,  no  doubt,  make  a  sure  thing  of  it,  by  finding  him 
in  his  bed  ;  for  since  the  lottery-prize  came  to  him,  Or 
chis,  besides  becoming  more  cheery,  had  also  grown  a 
little  lazy.  But  as  destiny  woultf  have  it,  that  same 
night  China  Aster  had  a  dream,  in  which  a  being  in  the 
guise  of  a  smiling  angel,  and  holding  a  kind  of  cornu 
copia  in  her  hand,  hovered  over  him,  pouring  down 
showers  of  small  gold  dollars,  thick  as  kernels  of  corn. 
'  I  am  Bright  Future,  friend  China  Aster,'  said  the  an 
gel,  '  and  if  you  do  what  friend  Orchis  would  have  you 
do,  just  see  what  will  come  of  it.'  With  which  Bright 
Future,  with  another  swing  of  her  cornucopia,  poured 
such  another  shower  of  small  gold  dollars  upon  him, 
that  it  seemed  to  bank  him  up  all  round,  and  he  waded 
about  in  it  like  a  maltster  in  malt. 

"Now,  dreams  are  wonderful  things,  as  everybody 
knows — so  wonderful,  indeed,  that  some  people  stop  not 


332  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

short  of  ascribing  them  directly  to  heaven ;  and  China 
Aster,  who  was  of  a  proper  turn  of  mind  in  everything, 
thought  that  in  consideration  of  the  dream,  it  would  be 
but  well  to  wait  a  little,  ere  seeking  Orchis  again.  Dur 
ing  the  day,  China  Aster's  mind  dwelling  continually 
upon  the  dream,  he  was  so  full  of  it,  that  when  Old 
Plain  Talk  dropped  in  to  see  him,  just  before  dinner 
time,  as  he  often  did,  out  of  the  interest  he  took  in  Old 
Honesty's  son,  China  Aster  told  all  about  his  vision, 
adding  that  he  could  not  think  that  so  radiant  an  angel 
could  deceive ;  and,  indeed,  talked  at  such  a  rate  that 
one  would  have  thought  he  believed  the  angel  some 
beautiful  human  philanthropist.  Something  in  this  sort 
Old  Plain  Talk  understood  him,  and,  accordingly,  in  his 
plain  way,  said :  *  China  Aster,  you  tell  me  that  an  an 
gel  appeared  to  you  in  a  dream.  Now,  w7hat  does  that 
amount  to  but  this,  'that  you  dreamed  an  angel  appeared 
to  you  ?  Go  right  away,  China  Aster,  and  return  the 
check,  as  I  advised  you  before.  If  friend  Prudence  were 
here,  he  would  say  just  the  same  thing.'  With  which 
words  Old  Plain  Talk  went  off  to  find  friend  Prudence, 
but  not  succeeding,  was  returning  to  the  candlery  him 
self,  when,  at  distance  mistaking  him  for  a  dun  who  had 
long  annoyed  him,  China  Aster  in  a  panic  barred  all  his 
doors,  and  ran  to  the  back  part  of  the  candlery,  where 
no  knock  could  be  heard. 

"  By  this  sad  mistake,  being  left  with  no  friend  to  ar 
gue  the  other  side  of  the  question,  China  Aster  was  so 
worked  upon  at  last,  by  musing  over  his  dream,  that 
nothing  would  do  but  he  must  get  the  check  cashed,  and 


THE   STORY  OF   CHINA   ASTER.     333 

lay  out  the  money  the  very  same  day  in  buying  a  good 
lot  of  spermaceti  to  make  into  candles,  by  which  opera 
tion  he  counted  upon  turning  a  better  penny  than  he 
ever  had  before  in  his  life ;  in  fact,  this  he  believed 
would  prove  the  foundation  of  that  famous  fortune 
which  the  angel  had  promised  him. 

''Now,  in  using  the  money,  China  Aster  was  resolved 
punctually  to  pay  the  interest  every  six  months  till  the 
principal  should  be  returned,  howbeit  not  a  word  about 
such  a  thing  had  been  breathed  by  Orchis;  though, 
indeed,  according  to  custom,  as  well  as  law,  in  such 
matters,  interest  would  legitimately  accrue  on  the  loan, 
nothing  to  the  contrary  having  been  put  in  the  bond. 
Whether  Orchis  at  the  time  had  this  in  mind  or  not, 
there  is  no  sure  telling;  but,  to  all  appearance,  he  never 
so  much  as  cared  to  think  about  the  matter,  one  way  or 
other. 

"  Though  the  spermaceti  venture  rather  disappointed 
China  Aster's  sanguine  expectations,  yet  he  made  out  to 
pay  the  first  six  months'  interest,  and  though  his  next 
venture  turned  out  still  less  prosperously,  yet  by  pinch 
ing  his  family  in  the  matter  of  fresh  meat,  and,  what 
pained  him  still  more,  his  boys'  schooling,  he  contrived 
to  pay  the  second  six  months'  interest,  sincerely  grieved 
that  integrity,  as  well  as  its  opposite,  though  not  in  an 
equal  degree,  costs  something,  sometimes. 

"  Meanwhile,  Orchis  had  gone  on  a  trip  to  Europe  by 
advice  of  a  physician ;  it  so  happening  that,  since  the 
lottery-prize  came  to  him,  it  had  been  discovered  to  Or 
chis  that  his  health  was  not  very  firm,  though  he  had 


334  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

never  complained  of  anything  before  but  a  slight  ailing 
of  the  spleen,  scarce  worth  talking  about  at  the  time. 
So  Orchis,  being  abroad,  could  not  help  China  Aster's 
paying  his  interest  as  he  did,  however  much  he  might 
have  been  opposed  to  it ;  for  China  Aster  paid  it  to 
Orchis's  agent,  who  was  of  too  business-like  a  turn  to 
decline  interest  regularly  paid  in  on  a  loan. 

"But  overmuch  to  trouble  the  agent  on  that  score  was 
not  again  to  be  the  fate  of  China  Aster ;  for,  not  be 
ing  of  that  skeptical  spirit  which  refuses  to  trust  cus 
tomers,  his  third  venture  resulted,  through  bad  debts,  in 
almost  a  total  loss — a  bad  blow  for  the  candle-maker. 
Neither  did  Old  Plain  Talk,  and  Old  Prudence  neglect 
the  opportunity  to  read  him  an  uncheerful  enough  lesson 
upon  the  consequences  of  his  disregarding  their  advice 
in  the  matter  of  having  nothing  to  do  with  borrowed 
money.  'It's  all  just  as  I  predicted,'  said  Old  Plain 
Talk,  blowing  his  old  nose  with  his  old  bandana.  '  Yea, 
indeed  is  it,'  chimed  in  Old  Prudence,  rapping  his  staff 
on  the  floor,  and  then  leaning  upon  it,  looking  with 
solemn  forebodings  upon  China  Aster.  Low-spirited 
enough  felt  the  poor  candle-maker  ;  till  all  at  once  who 
should  come  with  a  bright  face  to  him  but  his  bright 
friend,  the  angel,  in  another  dream.  Again  the  cornuco 
pia  poured  out  its  treasure,  and  promised  still  more. 
Revived  by  the  vision,  he  resolved  not  to  be  down 
hearted,  but  up  and  at  it  once  more — contrary  to  the 
advice  of  Old  Plain  Talk,  backed  as  usual  by  his  crony, 
which  was  to  the  effect,  that,  under  present  circumstan 
ces,  the  best  thing  China  Aster  could  do,  would  be  to 


THE      S  T  O  Jl  Y      OF      C  H  I  X  A      ASTER.  335 

wind  up  his  business,  settle,  if  he  could,  all  his  liabili 
ties,  and  then  go  to  work  as  a  journeyman,  by  which 
he  could  earn  good  wages,  and  give  up,  from  that  time 
henceforth,  all  thoughts  of  rising  above  being  a  paid  sub 
ordinate  to  men  more  able  than  himself,  for  China  Aster's 
career  thus  far  plainly  proved  him  the  legitimate  son  of 
Old  Honesty,  who,  as  every  one  knew,  had  never  shown 
much  business-talent,  so  little,  in  fact,  that  many  said 
of  him  that  he  had  no  business  to  be  in  business.  And 
just  this  plain  saying  Plain  Talk  now  plainly  applied 
to  China  Aster,  and  Old  Prudence  never  disagreed  with 
him.  But  the  angel  in  the  dream  did,  and,  maugre  Plain 
Talk,  put  quite  other  notions  into  the  candle-maker. 

"  He  considered  what  he  should  do  towards  reestablish 
ing  himself.  Doubtless,  had  Orchis  been  in  the  country, 
he  would  have  aided  him  in  this  strait.  As  it  was,  he 
applied  to  others  ;  and  as  in  the  world,  much  as  some  may 
hint  to  the  contrary,  an  honest  man  in  misfortune  still 
can  find  friends  to  stay  by  him  and  help  him,  even  so 
it  proved  with  China  Aster,  who  at  last  succeeded  in  bor 
rowing  from  a  rich  old  farmer  the  sum  of  six  hundred 
dollars,  at  the  usual  interest  of  money-lenders,  upon  the 
security  of  a  secret  bond  signed  by  China  Aster's  wife 
and  himself,  to  the  effect  that  all  such  right  and  title  to 
any  property,  that  should  be  left  her  by  a  well-to-do 
childless  uncle,  an  invalid  tanner,  such  property  should, 
in  the  event  of  China  Aster's  failing  to  return  the  bor 
rowed  sum  on  the  given  day,  be  the  lawful  possession 
of  the  money-lender.  True,  it  was  just  as  much  as 
China  Aster  could  possibly  do  to  induce  his  wife,  a  care- 


336  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

ful  woman,  to  sign  this  bond ;  because  she  had  always 
regarded  her  promised  share  in  her  uncle's  estate  as  an 
anchor  well  to  windward  of  the  hard  times  in  which 
China  Aster  had  always  been  more  or  less  involved,  and 
from  which,  in  her  bosom,  she  never  had  seen  much 
chance  of  his  freeing  himself.  Some  notion  may  be  had 
of  China  Aster's  standing  in  the  heart  and  head  of  his 
wife,  by  a  short  sentence  commonly  used  in  reply  to 
such  persons  as  happened  to  sound  her  on  the  point. 
4  China  Aster,'  she  would  say,  *  is  a  good  husband,  but 
a  bad  business  man  !'  Indeed,  she  was  a  connection  on 
the  maternal  side  of  Old  Plain  Talk's.  But  had  not 
China  Aster  taken  good  care  not  to  let  Old  Plain  Talk 
and  Old  Prudence  hear  of  his  dealings  with  the  old 
farmer,  ten  to  one  they  would,  in  some  way,  have  inter 
fered  with  his  success  in  that  quarter. 

"  It  has  been  hinted  that  the  honesty  of  China  Aster 
was  what  mainly  induced  the  money-lender  to  befriend 
him  in  his  misfortune,  and  this  must  be  apparent ;  for, 
had  China  Aster  been  a  different  man,  the  money-lender 
might  have  dreaded  lest,  in  the  event  of  his  failing  to 
meet  his  note,  he  might  some  way  prove  slippery — more 
especially  as,  in  the  hour  of  distress,  worked  upon  by 
remorse  for  so  jeopardizing  his  wife's  money,  his  heart 
might  prove  a  traitor  to  his  bond,  not  to  hint  that  it 
was  more  than  doubtful  how  such  a  secret  security  and 
claim,  as  in  the  last  resort  would  be  the  old  farmer's, 
would  stand  in  a  court  of  law.  But  though  one  infer 
ence  from  all  this  may  be,  that  had  China  Aster  been 
something  else  than  what  he  was,  he  would  not  have 


THE   STORY   OF   CHINA   ASTER.      337 

been  trusted,  and,  therefore,  he  would  have  been  effectu 
ally  shut  out  from  running  his  own  and  wife's  head 
into  the  usurer's  noose ;  yet  those  who,  when  every 
thing  at  last  came  out,  maintained  that,  in  this  view 
and  to  this  extent,  the  honesty  of  the  candle-maker  was 
no  advantage  to  him,  in  so  saying,  such  persons  said 
what  every  good  heart  must  deplore,  and  no  prudent 
tongue  will  admit. 

"It  may  be  mentioned,  that  the  old  farmer  made 
China  Aster  take  part  of  his  loan  in  three  old  dried-up 
cows  and  one  lame  horse,  not  improved  by  the  glanders. 
These  were  thrown  in  at  a  pretty  high  figure,  the  old 
money-lender  having  a  singular  prejudice  in  regard  to 
the  high  value  of  any  sort  of  stock  raised  on  his  farm. 
With  a  great  deal  of  difficulty,  and  at  more  loss,  China 
Aster  disposed  of  his  cattle  at  public  auction,  no  pri 
vate  purchaser  being  found  who  could  be  prevailed 
upon  to  invest.  And  now,  raking  and  scraping  in  every 
way,  and  working  early  and  late,  China  Aster  at  last 
started  afresh,  nor  without  again  largely  and  confident 
ly  extending  himself.  However,  he  did  not  try  his 
hand  at  the  spermaceti  again,  but,  admonished  by  ex 
perience,  returned  to  tallow.  But,  having  bought  a 
good  lot  of  it,  by  the  time  he  got  it  into  candles,  tallow 
fell  so  low,  and  candles  with  it,  that  his  candles  per 
pound  barely  sold  for  what  he  had  paid  for  the  tallow. 
Meantime,  a  year's  unpaid  interest  had  accrued  on  Or 
chis'  loan,  but  China  Aster  gave  himself  not  so  much 
concern  about  that  as  about  the  interest  now  due  to 

the  old  farmer.     But  he  was  glad  that  the  principal 
15 


338  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

there  had  yet  some  time  to  run.  However,  the  skinny 
old  fellow  gave  him  some  trouble  by  coming  after  him 
every  day  or  two  on  a  scraggy  old  white  horse,  fur 
nished  with  a  musty  old  saddle,  and  goaded  into  his 
shambling  old  paces  with  a  withered  old  raw  hide.  All 
the  neighbors  said  that  surely  Death  himself  on  the 
pale  horse  was  after  poor  China  Aster  now.  And 
something  so  it  proved ;  for,  ere  long,  China  Aster 
found  himself  involved  in  troubles  mortal  enough. 

At  this  juncture  Orchis  was  heard  of.  Orchis,  it  seem 
ed,  had  returned  from  his  travels,  and  clandestinely  mar 
ried,  and,  in  a  kind  of  queer  way,  was  living  in  Penn 
sylvania  among  his  wife's  relations,  who,  among  other 
things,  had  induced  him  to  join  a  church,  or  rather 
semi-religious  school,  of  Come-Outers ;  and  what  was 
still  more,  Orchis,  without  coming  to  the  spot  himself, 
had  sent  word  to  his  agent  to  dispose  of  some  of  his 
property  in  Marietta,  and  remit  him  the  proceeds. 
Within  a  year  after,  China  Aster  received  a  letter  from 
Orchis,  commending  him  for  his  punctuality  in  paying 
the  first  year's  interest,  and  regretting  the  necessity 
that  he  (Orchis)  was  now  under  of  using  all  his  divi 
dends  ;  so  he  relied  upon  China  Aster's  paying  the 
next  six  months'  interest,  and  of  course  with  the  back 
interest.  Not  more  surprised  than  alarmed,  China 
Aster  thought  of  taking  steamboat  to  go  and  see  Or 
chis,  but  he  was  saved  that  expense  by  the  unexpected 
arrival  in  Marietta  of  Orchis  in  person,  suddenly  called 
there  by  that  strange  kind  of  capriciousness  lately  cha 
racterizing  him.  No  sooner  did  China  Aster  hear  of 


THE   STORY   OF   CHINA   ASTER.      339 

his  old  friend's  arrival  than  he  hurried  to  call  upon  him 
He  found  him  curiously  rusty  in  dress,  sallow  in  cheek, 
and  decidedly  less  gay  and  cordial  in  manner,  which 
the  more  surprised  China  Aster,  because,  in  former 
days,  he  had  more  than  once  heard  Orchis,  in  his  light 
rattling  way,  declare  that  all  he  (Orchis)  wanted  to 
make  him  a  perfectly  happy,  hilarious,  and  benignant 
man,  was  a  voyage  to  Europe  and  a  wife,  with  a  free 
development  of  his  inmost  nature. 

"  Upon  China  Aster's  stating  his  case,  his  rusted 
friend  was  silent  for  a  time;  then,  in  an  odd  way,  said 
that  he  would  not  crowd  China  Aster,  but  still  his 
(Orchis')  necessities  were  urgent.  Could  not  China 
Aster  mortgage  the  candlery  ?  He  was  honest,  and 
must  have  moneyed  friends;  and  could  he  not  press 
his  sales  of  candles  ?  Could  not  the  market  be  forced 
a  little  in  that  particular?  The  profits  on  candles 
must  be  very  great.  Seeing,  now,  that  Orchis  had 
the  notion  that  the  candle-making  business  was  a  very 
profitable  one,  and  knowing  sorely  enough  what  an 
error  was  here,  China  Aster  tried  to  undeceive  him. 
But  he  could  not  drive  the  truth  into  Orchis — Or 
chis  being  very  obtuse  here,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
strange  to  say,  very  melancholy.  Finally,  Orchis 
glanced  off  from  so  unpleasing  a  subject  into  the  most 
unexpected  reflections,  taken  from  a  religious  point 
of  view,  upon  the  unstableness  and  deceitfulness  of 
the  human  heart.  But  having,  as  he  thought,  expe 
rienced  something  of  that  sort  of  thing,  China  Aster 
did  not  take  exception  to  his  friend's  observations, 


340  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

but  still  refrained  from  so  doing,  almost  as  much  for 
the  sake  of  sympathetic  sociality  as  anything  else. 
Presently,  Orchis,  without  much  ceremony,  rose,  and 
saying  he  must  write  a  letter  to  his  wife,  bade  his 
friend  good-bye,  but  without  warmly  shaking  him  by 
the  hand  as  of  old. 

"  In  much  concern  at  the  change,  China  Aster  made 
earnest  inquiries  in  suitable  quarters,  as  to  what  things, 
as  yet  unheard  of,  had  befallen  Orchis,  to  bring  about 
such  a  revolution  ;  and  learned  at  last  that,  besides  tra 
veling,  and  getting  married,  and  joining  the  sect  of 
Gome-Outers,  Orchis  had  somehow  got  a  bad  dyspepsia, 
and  lost  considerable  property  through  a  breach  of 
trust  on  the  part  of  a  factor  in  New  York.  Telling 
these  things  to  Old  Plain  Talk,  that  man  of  some 
knowledge  of  the  world  shook  his  old  head,  and  told 
China  Aster  that,  though  he  hoped  it  might  prove  other 
wise,  yet  it  seemed  to  him  that  all  he  had  communi 
cated  about  Orchis  worked  together  for  bad  omens  as  to 
his  future  forbearance — especially,  he  added  with  a 
grim  sort  of  smile,  in  view  of  his  joining  the  sect  of 
Come-Outers ;  for,  if  some  men  knew  what  was  their 
inmost  natures,  instead  of  coming  out  with  it,  they 
would  try  their  best  to  keep  it  in,  which,  indeed,  was 
the  way  with  the  prudent  sort.  In  all  which  sour  no 
tions  Old  Prudence,  as  usual,  chimed  in. 

"When  interest-day  came  again,  China  Aster,  by  the 
utmost  exertions,  could  only  pay  Orchis'  agent  a  small 
part  of  what  was  due,  and  a  part  of  that  was  made  up 
by  his  children's  gift  money  (bright  tenpenny  pieces 


THE   STORY   OF   CHINA   ASTER.      341 

and  new  quarters,  kept  in  their  little  money-boxes),  and 
pawning  his  best  clothes,  with  those  of  his  wife  and 
children,  so  that  all  were  subjected  to  the  hardship  of 
staying  away  from  church.  And  the  old  usurer,  too, 
now  beginning  to  be  obstreperous,  China  Aster  paid 
him  his  interest  and  some  other  pressing  debts  with 
money  got  by,  at  last,  mortgaging  the  candlery. 

"  When  next  interest-day  came  round  for  Orchis,  not 
a  penny  could  be  raised.  With  much  grief  of  heart, 
China  Aster  so  informed  Orchis'  agent.  Meantime,  the 
note  to  the  old  usurer  fell  due,  and  nothing  from  China 
Aster  was  ready  to  meet  it ;  yet,  as  heaven  sends  its 
rain  on  the  just  and  unjust  alike,  by  a  coincidence  not 
unfavorable  to  the  old  farmer,  the  well-to-do  uncle,  the 
tanner,  having  died,  the  usurer  entered  upon  possession 
of  such  part  of  his  property  left  by  will  to  the  wife 
of  China  Aster.  When  still  the  next  interest-day  for 
Orchis  came  round,  it  found  China  Aster  worse  off  than 
ever;  for,  besides  his  other  troubles,  he  was  now  weak 
with  sickness.  Feebly  dragging  himself  to  Orchis' 
agent,  he  met  him  in  the  street,  told  him  just  how  it 
was  ;  upon  which  the  agent,  with  a  grave  enough  face, 
said  that  he  had  instructions  from  his  employer  not  to 
crowd  him  about  the  interest  at  present,  but  to  say  to 
him  that  about  the  time  the  note  would  mature,  Orchis 
would  have  heavy  liabilities  to  meet,  and  therefore  the 
note  must  at  that  time  be  certainly  paid,  and,  of  course, 
the  back  interest  with  it ;  and  not  only  so,  but,  as  Or 
chis  had  had  to  allow  the  interest  for  good  part  of  the 
time,  he  hoped  that,  for  the  back  interest,  China  Aster 


342  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

would,  in  reciprocation,  have  no  objections  to  allowing 
interest  on  the  interest  annually.  To  be  sure,  this  was 
not  the  law  ;  but,  between  friends  who  accommodate 
each  other,  it  was  the  custom. 

"  Just  then,  Old  Plain  Talk  with  Old  Prudence  turned 
the  corner,  coming  plump  upon  China  Aster  as  the 
agent  left  him ;  and  whether  it  was  a  sun-stroke,  or 
whether  they  accidentally  ran  against  him,  or  whether 
it  was  his  being  so  weak,  or  whether  it  was  everything 
together,  or  how  it  was  exactly,  there  is  no  telling,  but 
poor  China  Aster  fell  to  the  earth,  and,  striking  his  head 
sharply,  was  picked  up  senseless.  It  was  a  day  in  July ; 
such  a  light  and  heat  as  only  the  midsummer  banks  of 
the  inland  Ohio  know.  China  Aster  was  taken  home 
on  a  door ;  lingered  a  few  days  with  a  wandering  mind, 
and  kept  wandering  on,  till  at  last,  at  dead  of  night, 
when  nobody  was  aware,  his  spirit  wandered  away  into 
the  other  world. 

"  Old  Plain  Talk  and  Old  Prudence,  neither  of  whom 
ever  omitted  attending  any  funeral,  which,  indeed,  was 
their  chief  exercise — these  two  were  among  the  sin- 
cerest  mourners  who  followed  the  remains  of  the  son  of 
their  ancient  friend  to  the  grave. 

"  It  is  needless  to  tell  of  the  executions  that  followed  ; 
how  that  the  candlery  was  sold  by  the  mortgagee  ;  how 
Orchis  never  got  a  penny  for  his  loan  ;  and  how,  in  the 
case  of  the  poor  widow,  chastisement  was  tempered  with 
mercy;  for,  though  she  was  left  penniless,  she  was  not  left 
childless.  Yet,  unmindful  of  the  alleviation,  a  spirit  of 
complaint,  at  what  she  impatiently  called  the  bitterness 


THE   STORY   OF   CHINA  ASTER.     343 

of  her  lot  and  the  hardness  of  the  world,  so  preyed  upon 
her,  as  ere  long  to  hurry  her-  from  the  obscurity  of 
indigence  to  the  deeper  shades  of  the  tomb. 

"But  though  the  straits  in  which  China  Aster  had  left 
his  family  had,  besides  apparently  dimming  the  world's 
regard,  likewise  seemed  to  dim  its  sense  of  the  probity 
of  its  deceased  head,  and  though  this,  as  some  thought, 
did  not  speak  well  for  the  world,  yet  it  happened  in  this 
case,  as  in  others,  that,  though  the  world  may  for  a  time 
seem  insensible  to  that  merit  which  lies  under  a  cloud, 
yet,  sooner  or  later,  it  always  renders  honor  where  honor 
is  due ;  for,  upon  the  death  of  the  widow,  the  freemen 
of  Marietta,  as  a  tribute  of  respect  for  China  Aster,  and 
an  expression  of  their  conviction  of  his  high  moral 
worth,  passed  a  resolution,  that,  until  they  attained  ma 
turity,  his  children  should  be  considered  the  town's 
guests.  No  mere  verbal  compliment,  like  those  of  some 
public  bodies ;  for,  on  the  same  day,  the  orphans  were 
officially  installed  in  that  hospitable  edifice  where  their 
worthy  grandfather,  the  town's  guest  before  them,  had 
breathed  his  last  breath. 

"  But  sometimes  honor  maybe  paid  to  the  memory  of 
an  honest  man,  and  still  his  mound  remain  without  a 
monument.  Not  so,  however,  with  the  candle-maker. 
At  an  early  day,  Plain  Talk  had  procured  a  plain  stone, 
and  was  digesting  in  his  mind  what  pithy  word  or  two 
to  place  upon  it,  when  there  was  discovered,  in  China 
Aster's  otherwise  empty  wallet,  an  epitaph,  written, 
probably,  in  one  of  those  disconsolate  hours,  attended 
with  more  or  less  mental  aberration,  perhaps,  so  frequent 


344  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

with  him  for  some  months  prior  to  his  end.  A  memo 
randum  on  the  back  expressed  the  vv^sh  that  it  might  be 
placed  over  his  grave.  Though  with  the  sentiment  of 
the  epitaph  Plain  Talk  did  not  disagree,  he  himself  be 
ing  at  times  of  a  hypochondriac  turn — at  least,  so  many 
said — yet  the  language  struck  him  as  too  much  drawn 
out;  so,  after  consultation  with  Old  Prudence,  he  decided 
upon  making  use  of  the  epitaph,  yet  not  without  verbal 
retrenchments.  And  though,  when  these  were  made, 
the  thing  still  appeared  wordy  to  him,  nevertheless, 
thinking  that,  since  a  dead  man  was  to  be  spoken  about, 
it  was  but  just  to  let  him  speak  for  himself,  especially 
when  he  spoke  sincerely,  and  when,  by  so  doing,  the 
more  salutary  lesson  would  be  given,  he  had  the  re 
trenched  inscription  chiseled  as  follows  upon  the  stone . 

'  HERE  LIE 

THE  REMAINS  OF 

CHINA  ASTER  THE  CANDLE-MAKER, 

WHOSE  CAREER 
WAS  AN  EXAMPLE  OP  THE  TRUTH  OF  SCRIPTURE,  AS  FOUND 

IN  THE 
SOBER  PHILOSOPHY 

OF 

SOLOMON   THE   WISE; 
FOR  HE  WAS  RUINED    BY  ALLOWING  HIMSELF  TO  BE  PERSUADED, 

AGAINST  HIS  BETTER  SENSE, 
INTO  THE  FREE  INDULGENCE  OF  CONFIDENCE, 

AND 

AN  ARDENTLY  BRIGHT  VIEW  OF  LIFE, 
TO   THE   EXCLUSION 

OF 
THAT  COUNSEL  WHICH  COMES  BY  HEEDING 

THE 
OPPOSITE  VIEW.' 

"  This  inscription  raised  some  talk  in  the  town,  and 
was  rather  severely  criticised  by  the  capitalist — one  of  a 


THE   STORY   OF   CHINA   ASTER.     345 

very  cheerful  turn — who  had  secured  his  loan  to  China 
Aster  by  the  mortgage ;  and  though  it  also  proved 
obnoxious  to  the  man  who,  in  town-meeting,  had  first 
moved  for  the  compliment  to  China  Aster's  memory, 
and,  indeed,  was  deemed  by  him  a  sort  of  slur  upon  the 
candle-maker,  to  ihat  degree  that  he  refused  to  believe 
that  the  candle-maker  himself  had  composed  it,  charg 
ing  Old  Plain  Talk  with  the  authorship,  alleging  that 
the  internal  evidence  showed  that  none  but  that  veteran 
old  croaker  could  have  penned  such  a  jeremiade — yet, 
for  all  this,  the  stone  stood.  In  everything,  of  course, 
Old  Plain  Talk  was  seconded  by  Old  Prudence ;  who, 
one  day  going  to  the  grave-yard,  in  great-coat  and  over 
shoes — for,  though  it  was  a  sunshiny  morning,  he 
thought  that,  owing  to  heavy  dews,  dampness  might 
lurk  in  the  ground — long  stood  before  the  stone,  sharply 
leaning  over  on  his  staff,  spectacles  on  nose,  spelling  out 
the  epitaph  word  by  word  ;  and,  afterwards  meeting  Old 
Plain  Talk  in  the  street,  gave  a  great  rap  with  his  stick, 
and  said  :  *  Friend,  Plain  Talk,  that  epitaph  will  do 
very  well.  Nevertheless,  one  short  sentence  is  want 
ing.'  Upon  which,  Plain  Talk  said  it  was  too  late,  the 
chiseled  words  being  so  arranged,  after  the  usual  man 
ner  of  such  inscriptions,  that  nothing  could  be  inter 
lined.  'Then,'  said  Old  Prudence,  'I  will  put  it  in 
the  shape  of  a  postscript.'  Accordingly,  with  the 
approbation  of  Old  Plain  Talk,  he  had  the  following 
words  chiseled  at  the  left-hand  corner  of  the  stone,  and 
pretty  low  down : 

'  The  root  of  all  was  a  friendly  loan.' " 
15* 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

ENDING  WITH  A  RUPTUKE  OF  THE  HYPOTHESIS. 

"  WITH  what  heart,"  cried  Frank,  still  in  character, 
"  have  you  told  me  this  story  ?  A  story  I  can  no  way 
approve ;  for  its  moral,  if  accepted,  would  drain  me  of 
all  reliance  upon  my  last  stay,  and,  therefore,  of  my  last 
courage  in  life.  For,  what  was  that  bright  view  of 
China  Aster  but  a  cheerful  trust  that,  if  he  but  kept  up 
a  brave  heart,  worked  hard,  and  ever  hoped  for  the  best, 
all  at  last  would  go  well  ?  If  your  purpose,  Charlie,  in 
telling  me  this  story,  was  to  pain  me,  and  keenly,  you 
have  succeeded  ;  but,  if  it  was  to  destroy  my  last  confi 
dence,  I  praise  God  you  have  not." 

"  Confidence  ?"  cried  Charlie,  who,  on  his  side, 
seemed  with  his  whole  heart  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
the  thing,  "  what  has  confidence  to  do  with  the  matter? 
That  moral  of  the  story,  which  I  am  for  commending  to 
you,  is  this :  the  folly,  on  both  sides,  of  a  friend's  helping 
a  friend.  For  was  not  that  loan  of  Orchis  to  China 
Aster  the  first  step  towards  their  estrangement?  And 
did  it  not  bring  about  what  in  effect  was  the  enmity  of 
Orchis  ?  I  tell  you,  Frank,  true  friendship,  like  other 
precious  things,  is  not  rashly  to  be  meddled  with.  And 


RUPTURE      OF      T,HE      HYPOTHESIS.       347 

what  more  meddlesome  between  friends  than  a  loan  ? 
A  regular  marplot.  For  how  can  you  help  that  the 
helper  must  turn  out  a  creditor  ?  And  creditor  and 
friend,  can  they  ever  be  one  ?  no,  not  in  the  most 
lenient  case  ;  since,  out  of  lenity  to  forego  one's  claim, 
is.  less  to  be  a  friendly  creditor  than  to  cease  to  be  a 
creditor  at  all.  But  it  will  not  do  to  rely  upon  this 
lenity,  no,  not  in  the  best  man  ;  for  the  best  man,  as  the 
worst,  is  subject  to  all  mortal  contingencies.  He  may 
travel,  he  may  marry,  he  may  join  the  Gome-Outers, 
or  some  equally  untoward  school  or  sect,  not  to  speak  of 
other  things  that  more  or  less  tend  to  new-cast  the 
character.  And  were  there  nothing  else,  who  shall 
answer  for  his  digestion,  upon  which  so  much  depends  ?" 

11  But  Charlie,  dear  Charlie — " 

"  Nay,  wait. — You  have  hearkened  to  my  story  in 
vain,  if  you  do  not  see  that,  however  indulgent  and 
right-minded  I  may  seem  to  you  now,  that  is  no 
guarantee  for  the  future.  And  into  the  power  of 
that  uncertain  personality  which,  through  the  mu 
tability  of  my  humanity,  I  may  hereafter  become, 
should  not  common  sense  dissuade  you,  my  dear  Frank, 
from  putting  yourself?  Consider.  Would  you,  in 
your  present  need,  be  willing  to  accept  a  loan  from  a 
friend,  securing  him  by  a  mortgage  on  your  homestead, 
and  do  so,  knowing  that  you  had  no  reason  to  feel  satis 
fied  that  the  mortgage  might  not  eventually  be  trans 
ferred  into  the  hands  of  a  foe  ?  Yet  the  difference 
between  this  man  and  that  man  is  not  so  great  as  the 
difference  between  what  the  same  man  be  to-day  and 


348  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

what  he  may  be  in  days  to  come.  For  there  is  no  bent 
of  heart  or  turn  of  thought  which  any  man  holds  by 
virtue  of  an  unalterable  nature  or  will.  Even  those 
feelings  and  opinions  deemed  most  identical  with  eter 
nal  right  and  truth,  it  is  not  impossible  but  that,  as  per 
sonal  persuasions,  they  may  in  reality  be  but  the  result 
of  some  chance  tip  of  Fate's  elbow  in  throwing  her  dice. 
For,  not  to  go  into  the  first  seeds  of  things,  and  passing 
by  the  accident  of  parentage  predisposing  to  this  or  that 
habit  of  mind,  descend  below  these,  and  tell  me,  if  you 
change  this  man's  experiences  or  that  man's  books,  will 
wisdom  go  surety  for  his  unchanged  convictions  ?  As 
particular  food  begets  particular  dreams,  so  particular 
experiences  or  books  particular  feelings  or  beliefs.  I 
will  hear  nothing  of  that  fine  babble  about  development 
and  its  laws  ;  there  is  no  development  in  opinion  and 
feeling  but  the  developments  of  time  and  tide.  You 
may  deem  all  this  talk  idle,  Frank ;  but  conscience  bids 
me  show  you  how  fundamental  the  reasons  for  treating 
you  as  I  do." 

"  But  Charlie,  dear  Charlie,  what  new  notions  are 
these  ?  I  thought  that  man  was  no  poor  drifting  weed 
of  the  universe,  as  you  phrased  it ;  that,  if  so  minded, 
he  could  have  a  will,  a  way,  a  thought,  and  a  heart  of 
his  own  ?  But  now  you  have  turned  everything  upside 
down  again,  with  an  inconsistency  that  amazes  and 
shocks  me." 

"  Inconsistency  ?     Bah  !" 

"  There  speaks  the  ventriloquist  again,"  sighed 
Frank,  in  bitterness. 


RUPTURE      OF      THE      HYPOTHESIS.       349 

Illy  pleased,  it  may  be,  by  this  repetition  of  an  allu 
sion  little  flattering  to  his  originality,  however  much  so 
to  his  docility,  the  disciple  sought  to  carry  it  off  by  ex 
claiming :  "Yes,  I  turn  over  day  and  night,  with 
indefatigable  pains,  the  sublime  pages  of  my  master, 
and  unfortunately  for  you,  my  dear  friend,  I  find  nothing 
there  that  leads  me  to  think  otherwise  than  I  do.  But 
enough :  in  this  matter  the  experience  of  China  Aster 
teaches  a  moral  more  to  the  point  than  anything  Mark 
Winsome  can  offer,  or  I  either." 

11 1  cannot  think  so,  Charlie  ;  for  neither  am  I  China 
Aster,  nor  do  I  stand  in  his  position.  The  loan  to  China 
Aster  was  to  extend  his  business  with ;  the  loan  I  seek 
is  to  relieve  my  necessities." 

"  Your  dress,  my  dear  Frank,  is  respectable ;  your 
cheek  is  not  gaunt.  Why  talk  of  necessities  when 
nakedness  and  starvation  beget  the  only  real  neces 
sities  ?" 

"  But  I  need  relief,  Charlie ;  and  so  sorely,  that  I  now 
conjure  you  to  forget  that  I  was  ever  your  friend,  while 
I  apply  to  you  only  as  a  fellow-being,  whom,  surely, 
you  will  not  turn  away." 

"  That  I  will  not.  Take  off  your  hat,  bow  over  to 
the  ground,  and  supplicate  an  alms  of  me  in  the  way  of 
London  streets,  and  you  shall  not  be  a  sturdy  beggar  in 
vain.  But  no  man  drops  pennies  into  the  hat  of  a 
friend,  let  me  tell  you.  If  you  turn  beggar,  then,  for 
the  honor  of  noble  friendship,  I  turn  stranger." 

"  Enough,"  cried  the  other,  rising,  and  with  a  toss  of 
his  shoulders  seeming  disdainfully  to  throw  off  the  char- 


350  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

acter  he  had  assumed.  "  Enough.  I  have  had  my  fill 
of  the  philosophy  of  Mark  Winsome  as  put  into  action. 
And  moonshiny  as  it  in  theory  may  be,  yet  a  very  prac 
tical  philosophy  it  turns  out  in  effect,  as  he  himself 
engaged  I  should  find.  But,  miserable  for  my  race 
should  I  be,  if  I  thought  he  spoke  truth  when  he 
claimed,  for  proof  of  the  soundness  of  his  system,  that 
the  study  of  it  tended  to  much  the  same  formation  of 
character  with  the  experiences  of  the  world. — Apt  dis 
ciple  !  Why  wrinkle  the  brow,  and  waste  the  oil  both 
of  life  and  the  lamp,  only  to  turn  out  a  head  kept  cool 
by  the  under  ice  of  the  heart?  What  your  illustrious 
magian  has  taught  you,  any  poor,  old,  broken-down, 
heart-shrunken  dandy  might  have  lisped.  Pray,  leave 
me,  and  with  you  take  the  last  dregs  of  your  inhuman 
philosophy.  And  here,  take  this  shilling,  and  at  the 
first  wood-landing  buy  yourself  a  few  chips  to  warm  the 
frozen  natures  of  you  and  your  philosopher  by." 

With  these  words  and  a  grand  scorn  the  cosmopolitan 
turned  on  his  heel,  leaving  his  companion  at  a  loss  to 
determine  where  exactly  the  fictitious  character  had 
been  dropped,  and  the  real  one,  if  any,  resumed.  If 
any,  because,  with  pointed  meaning,  there  occurred  to 
him,  as  he  gazed  after  the  cosmopolitan,  these  familiar 
lines : 

"  All  the  world's  a  stage, 
And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players, 
Who  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances, 
And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts.* ' 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

UPON  THE    HEEL  OF  THE   LAST   SCENE   THE  COSMOPOLITAN  ENTERS  THE 
BARBER'S  SHOP,  A  BENEDICTION  ON  HIS  LIPS. 

"BLESS  you,  barber!" 

Now,  owing  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  the  barber 
had  been  all  alone  until  within  the  ten  minutes  last 
passed;  when,  finding  himself  rather  dullish  company  to 
himself,  he  thought  he  would  have  a  good  time  with 
Souter  John  and  Tarn  O'Shanter,  otherwise  called  Som- 
nus  and  Morpheus,  two  very  good  fellows,  though  one 
was  not  very  bright,  and  the  other  an  arrant  rattle 
brain,  who,  though  much  listened  to  by  some,  no  wise 
man  would  believe  under  oath. 

In  short,  with  back  presented  to  the  glare  of  his 
lamps,  and  so  to  the  door,  the  honest  barber  was  taking 
what  are  called  cat-naps,  and  dreaming  in  his  chair;  so 
that,  upon  suddenly  hearing  the  benediction  above,  pro 
nounced  intones  not  unangelic,  starting  up,  half  awake, 
he  stared  before  him,  but  saw  nothing,  for  the  stranger 
stood  behind.  What  with  cat-naps,  dreams,  and  be 
wilderments,  therefore,  the  voice  seemed  a  sort  of  spir 
itual  manifestation  to  him;  so  that,  for  the  moment, 


352  THE      CONFIDENCE  -MAN. 

he  stood  all  agape,  eyes  fixed,  and  one  arm  in  the 
air. 

"Why,  barber,  are  you  reaching  up  to  catch  birds 
there  with  salt  ?" 

"  Ah !"  turning  round  disenchanted,  "  it  is  only  a 
man,  then." 

"  Only  a  man  ?  As  if  to  be  but  man  were  nothing. 
But  don't  be  too  sure  what  I  am.  You  call  me  man, 
just  as  the  townsfolk  called  the  angels  who.  in  man's 
form,  came  to  Lot's  house ;  just  as  the  Jew  rustics  call 
ed  the  devils  who,  in  man's  form,  haunted  the  tombs. 
You  can  conclude  nothing  absolute  from  the  human 
form,  barber." 

"But  lean  conclude  something  from  that  sort  of 
talk,  with  that  sort  of  dress,"  shrewdly  thought  the 
barber,  eying  him  with  regained  self-possession,  and  not 
without  some  latent  touch  of  apprehension  at  being 
alone  with  him.  What  was  passing  in  his  mind  seemed 
divined  by  the  other,  who  now,  more  rationally  and 
gravely,  and  as  if  he  expected  it  should  be  attended  to, 
said:  "Whatever  else  you  may  conclude  upon,  it  is 
my  desire  that  you  conclude  to  give  me  a  good  shave," 
at  the  same  time  loosening  his  neck-cloth.  "  Are  you 
competent  to  a  good  shave,  barber  ?" 

"No  broker  more  so,  sir,"  answered  the  barber,  whom 
the  business-like  proposition  instinctively  made  confine 
to  business-ends  his  views  of  the  visitor. 

"Broker?  What  has  a  broker  to  do  with  lather? 
A  broker  I  have  always  understood  to  be  a  worthy  dealer 
in  certain  papers  and  metals." 


THE    BARBER'S    SHOP.  353 

"  He,  he  !"  taking  him  now  for  some  dry  sort  of  joker, 
whose  jokes,  he  being  a  customer,  it  might  be  as  well 
to  appreciate,  "he,  he  !  You  understand  well  enough, 
sir.  Take  this  seat,  sir,"  laying  his  hand  on  a  great 
stuffed  chair,  high-backed  and  high-armed,  crimson- 
covered,  and  raised  on  a  sort  of  dais,  and  which  seemed 
but  to  lack  a  canopy  and  quarterings,  to  make  it  in 
aspect  quite  a  throne,  "  take  this  seat,  sir." 

"Thank  you,"  sitting  down;  "and  now,  pray,  ex 
plain  that  about  the  broker.  But  look,  look — what's 
this  ?"  suddenly  rising,  and  pointing,  with  his  long  pipe, 
towards  a  gilt  notification  swinging  among  colored  fly 
papers  from  the  ceiling,  like  a  tavern  sign,  "  No  Trust,  ?" 
"  No  trust  means  distrust ;  distrust  means  no  confidence. 
Barber,"  turning  upon  him  excitedly,  "  what  fell  sus- 
piciousness  prompts  this  scandalous  confession  ?  My 
life !"  stamping  his  foot,  "if  but  to  tell  a  dog  that  you 
have  no  confidence  in  him  be  matter  for  affront  to  the 
dog,  what  an  insult  to  take  that  way  the  whole  haughty 
race  of  man  by  the  beard !  By  my  heart,  sir !  but  at 
least  you  are  valiant ;  backing  the  spleen  of  Thersites 
with  the  pluck  of  Agamemnon." 

"  Your  sort  of  talk,  sir,  is  not  exactly  in  my  line," 
said  the  barber,  rather  ruefully,  being  now  again  hope 
less  of  his  customer,  and  not  without  return  of  uneasi 
ness  ;  "  not  in  my  line,  sir,"  he  emphatically  repeated. 

"  But  the  taking  of  mankind  by  the  nose  is ;  a  habit, 
barber,  which  I  sadly  fear  has  insensibly  bred  in  you  a 
disrespect  for  man.  For  how,  indeed,  may  respectful 
conceptions  of  him  coexist  with  the  perpetual  habit  of 


354  THE      C  O  N  F  I.D  E  N  C  E  -  M  A  N  . 

taking  him  by  the  nose  ?  But,  tell  me,  though  I,  too, 
clearly  see  the  import  of  your  notification,  I  do  not,  as 
yet,  perceive  the  object.  What  is  it?" 

"  Now  you  speak  a  little  in  my  line,  sir,"  said  the 
barber,  not  unrelieved  at  this  return  to  plain  talk ; 
"  that  notification  I  find  very  useful,  sparing  me  much 
work  which  would  not  pay.  Yes,  I  lost  a  good  deal, 
off  and  on,  before  putting  that  up,"  gratefully  glancing 
towards  it. 

"  But  what  is  its  object  ?  Surely,  you  don't  mean  to 
say,  in  so  many  words,  that  you  have  no  confidence  ? 
For  instance,  now,"  flinging  aside  his  neck-cloth,  throw 
ing  back  his  blouse,  and  reseating  himself  on  the  ton- 
sorial  throne,  at  sight  of  which  proceeding  the  barber 
mechanically  filled  a  cup  with  hot  water  from  a  copper 
vessel  over  a  spirit-lamp,  "  for  instance,  now,  suppose  I 
say  to  you,  *  Barber,  my  dear  barber,  unhappily  I  have 
no  small  change  by  me  to-night,  but  shave  me,  and 
depend  upon  your  money  to-morrow' — suppose  I  should 
say  that  now,  you  would  put  trust  in  me,  wouldn't 
you  ?  You  would  have  confidence  ?" 

"  Seeing  that  it  is  you,  sir,"  with  complaisance 
replied  the  barber,  now  mixing  the  lather,  "  seeing  that 
it  is  you,  sir,  I  won't  answer  that  question.  No  need  to." 

"  Of  course,  of  course — in  that  view.  But,  as  a  sup 
position — you  would  have  confidence  in  me,  wouldn't 
you?" 

"  Why — yes,  yes." 

"  Then  why  that  sign  ?" 

"  Ah,  sir,  all  people  ain't  like  you,"  was  the  smooth 


SHOP.  355 

reply,  at  the  same  time,  as  if  smoothly  to  close  the 
debate,  beginning  smoothly  to  apply  the  lather,  which 
operation,  however,  was,  by  a  motion,  protested  against 
by  the  subject,  but  only  out  of  a  desire  to  rejoin,  which 
was  done  in  these  words : 

"All  people  ain't  like  me.  Then  I  must  be  either 
better  or  worse  than  most  people.  Worse,  you  could 
not  mean  ;  no,  barber,  you  could  not  mean  that ;  hardly 
that.  It  remains,  then,  that  you  think  me  better  than 
most  people.  But  that  I  ain't  vain  enough  to  believe ; 
though,  from  vanity,  I  confess,  I  could  never  yet,  by  my 
best  wrestlings,  entirely  free  myself;  nor,  indeed,  to  be 
frank,  am  I  at  bottom  over  anxious  to — this  same  vanity, 
barber,  being  so  harmless,  so  useful,  so  comfortable,  so 
pleasingly  preposterous  a  passion." 

"Very  true,  sir;  and  upon  my  honor,  sir,  you  talk 
very  well.  But  the  lather  is  getting  a  little  cold,  sir." 

"  Better  cold  lather,  barber,  than  a  cold  heart.  Why 
that  cold  sign  ?  Ah,  I  don't  wonder  you  try  to  shirk 
the  confession.  You  feel  in  your  soul  how  ungenerous 
a  hint  is  there.  And  yet,  barber,  now  that  I  look  into 
your  eyes — which  somehow  speak  to  me  of  the  mother 
that  must  have  so  often  looked  into  them  before  me — I 
dare  say,  though  you  may  not  think  it,  that  the  spirit  of 
that  notification  is  not  one  with  your  nature.  For  look 
now,  setting  business  views  aside,  regarding  the  thing 
in  an  abstract  light  ;  in  short,  supposing  a  case,  barber  ; 
supposing,  I  say,  you  see  a  stranger,  his  face  accidentally 
averted,  but  his  visible  part  very  respectable-looking; 
what  now,  barber — I  put  it  to  your  conscience,  to  your 


356  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

charity — what  would  be  your  impression  of  that  man, 
in  a  moral  point  of  view  ?  Being  in  a  signal  sense  a 
stranger,  would  you,  for  that,  signally  set  him  down  for 
a  knave  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,  sir  ;  by  no  means,"  cried  the  barber, 
humanely  resentful. 

"  You  would  upon  the  face  of  him — " 

"  Hold,  sir,"  said  the  barbe'r,  "nothing  about  the  face  ; 
you  remember,  sir,  that  is  out  of  sight." 

"  I  forgot  that.  Well  then,  you  would,  upon  the 
back  of  him,  conclude  him  to  be,  not  improbably,  some 
worthy  sort  of  person ;  in  short,  an  honest  man :  wouldn't 
you?" 

"Not  unlikely  I  should,  sir." 

'*  Well  now — don't  be  so  impatient  with  your  brush, 
barber — suppose  that  honest  man  meet  you  by  night  in 
some  dark  corner  of  the  boat  where  his  face  would  still 
remain  unseen,  asking  you  to  trust  him  for  a  shave — 
how  then  ?" 

"  Wouldn't  trust  him,  sir." 

"  But  is  not  an  honest  man  to  be  trusted  ?" 

"  Why — why — yes,  sir." 

"  There  !  don't  you  see,  now  ?" 

"  See  what  ?"  asked  the  disconcerted  barber,  rather 
vexedly. 

"  Why,  you  stand  self-contradicted,  barber ;  don't 
you  ?" 

"  No,"  doggedly. 

"  Barber,"  gravely,  and  after  a  pause  of  concern, 
"  the  enemies  of  our  race  have  a  saying  that  insincerity 


THE      BARBER      S      SHOP.  357 

is  the  most  universal  and  inveterate  vice  of  man — the 
lasting  bar  to  real  amelioration,  whether  of  individuals 
or  of  the  world.  Don't  you  now,  barber,  by  your  stub 
bornness  on  this  occasion,  give  color  to  such  a  cal 
umny  ?v 

"  Hity-tity  !"  cried  the  barber,  losing  patience,  and 
with  it  respect ;  "  stubbornness  ?"  Then  clattering 
round  the  brush  in  the  cup,  "Will  you  be  shaved,  or 
won't  you  ?" 

"  Barber,  I  will  be  shaved,  and  with  pleasure ;  but, 
pray,  don't  raise  your  voice  that  way.  Why,  now,  if 
you  go  through  life  gritting  your  teeth  in  that  fashion, 
what  a  comfortless  time  you  will  have." 

"  I  take  as  much  comfort  in  this  world  as  you  or  any 
other  man,"  cried  the  barber,  whom  the  other's  sweet 
ness  of  temper  seemed  rather  to  exasperate  than  soothe. 

"  To  resent  the  imputation  of  anything  like  unhap- 
piness  I  have  often  observed  to  be  peculiar  to  certain 
orders  of  men,"  said  the  other  pensively,  and  half  to 
himself,  "  just  as  to  be  indifferent  to  that  imputation, 
Ifrom  holding  happiness  but  for  a  secondary  good  and  in 
ferior  grace,  I  have  observed  to  be  equally  peculiar  to 
other  kinds  of  men.  Pray,  barber,"  innocently  looking 
up,  "  which  think  you  is  the  superior  creature  ?" 

"  All  this  sort  of  talk,"  cried  the  barber,  still  unmol- 
lified,  "  is,  as  I  told  you  once  before,  not  in  my  line.  In 
a  few  minutes  I  shall  shut  up  this  shop.  Will  you  be 
shaved?" 

"  Shave  away,  barber.  What  hinders  ?"  turning  up 
his  face  like  a  flower. 


358 


THE      C  O  N  F  I  DE  N  C  E  -  M  A  N. 


The  shaving  began,  and  proceeded  in  silence,  till  at 
length  it  became  necessary  to  prepare  to  relather  a 
little — affording  an  opportunity  for  resuming  the  sub 
ject,  which,  on  one  side,  was  not  let  slip. 

"  Barber,"  with  a  kind  of  cautious  kindliness,  feeling 
his  way,  "  barber,  now  have  a  little  patience  with  me  ; 
do  ;  trust  me,  I  wish  not  to  offend.  I  have  been  think 
ing  over  that  supposed  case  of  the  man  with  the  averted 
face,  and  I  cannot  rid  my  mind  of  the  impression  that, 
by  your  opposite  replies  to  my  questions  at  the  time, 
you  showed  yourself  much  of  a  piece  with  a  good  many 
other  men — that  is,  you  have  confidence,  and  then  again, 
you  have  none.  Now,  what  I  would  ask  is,  do  you 
think  it  sensible  standing  for  a  sensible  man,  one  foot 
on  confidence  and  the  other  on  suspicion  ?  Don't  you 
think,  barber,  that  you  ought  to  elect  ?  Don't  you 
think  consistency  requires  that  you  should  either  say  *  I 
have  confidence  in  all  men,'  and  take  down  your  noti 
fication  ;  or  else  say,  *I  suspect  all  men,'  and  keep  it  up." 

This  dispassionate,  if  not  deferential,  way  of  putting 
the  case,  did  not  fail  to  impress  the  barber,  and  propor 
tionately  conciliate  him.  Likewise,  from  its  pointedness, 
it  served  to  make  him  thoughtful ;  for,  instead  of  going 
to  the  copper  vessel  for  more  water,  as  he  had  purposed, 
he  halted  half-way  towards  it,  and,  after  a  pause,  cup  in 
hand,  said  :  "  Sir,  I  hope  you  would  not  do  me  injus 
tice.  I  don't  say,  and  can't  say,  and  wouldn't  say,  that 
I  suspect  all  men  ;  but  I  do  say  that  strangers  are  not 
to  be  trusted,  and  so,"  pointing  up  to  the  sign,  '"  no 
trust." 


THE    BARBER'S    SHOP.  359 

"But  look,  now,  I  beg,  barber,"  rejoined  the  other 
deprecatingly,  not  presuming  too  much  upon  the  barber's 
changed  temper;  "look,  now;  to  say  that  strangers 
are  not  to  be  trusted,  does  not  that  imply  some 
thing  like  saying  that  mankind  is  not  to  be  trusted ; 
for  the  mass  of  mankind,  are  they  not  necessarily 
strangers  to  each  individual  man  ?  Come,  come, 
my  friend,"  winningly,  "  you  are  no  Timon  to  hold 
the  mass  of  mankind  untrustworthy.  Take  down 
your  notification  ;  it  is  misanthropical ;  much  the  same 
sign  that  Timon  traced  with  charcoal  on  the  forehead  of 
a  skull  stuck  over  his  cave.  Take  it  down,  barber ; 
take  it  down  to-night.  Trust  men.  Just  try  the  ex 
periment  of  trusting  men  for  this  one  little  trip.  Come 
now,  I'm  a  philanthropist,  and  will  insure  you  against 
losing  a  cent." 

The  barber  shook  his  head  dryly,  and  answered,  "  Sir, 
you  must  excuse  me.  I  have  a  family." 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 


VERY    CHARMING. 


"•  So  you  are  a  philanthropist,  sir,"  added  the  barber 
with  an  illuminated  look  ;  "  that  accounts,  then,  for  all. 
Very  odd  sort  of  man  the  philanthropist.  You  are  the 
second  one,  sir,  I  have  seen.  Very  odd  sort  of  man, 
indeed,  the  philanthropist.  Ah,  sir,"  again  meditatively 
stirring  in  the  shaving-cup,  "  I  sadly  fear,  lest  you 
philanthropists  know-  better  what  goodness  is,  than 
what  men  are."  Then,  eying  him  as  if  he  were  some 
strange  creature  behind  cage-bars,  "So  you  are  a  phi 
lanthropist,  sir." 

"  I  am  Philanthropes,  and  love  mankind.  And,  what 
is  more  than  you  do,  barber,  I  trust  them." 

Here  the  barber,  casually  recalled  to  his  business, 
would  have  replenished  his  shaving-cup,  but  finding 
now  that  on  his  last  visit  to  the  water-vessel  he  had  not 
replaced  it  over  the  lamp,  he  did  so  now ;  and,  while 
waiting  for  it  to  heat  again,  became  almost  as  sociable 
as  if  the  heating  water  were  meant  for  whisky-punch  ; 
and  almost  as  pleasantly  garrulous  as  the  pleasant  bar 
bers  in  romances. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  taking  a  throne  beside  his  customer 


VERY      CHARMING.  361 

(for  in  a  row  there  were  three  thrones  on  the  dais,  as 
for  the  three  kings  of  Cologne,  those  patron  saints  of  the 
barber),  "  sir,  you  say  you  trust  men.  Well,  I  sup 
pose  I  might  share  some  of  your  trust,  were  it  not  for 
this  trade,  that  I  follow,  too  much  letting  me  in  behind 
the  scenes." 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  with  a  saddened  look  ;  "  and 
much  the  same  thing  I  have  heard  from  persons  in 
pursuits  different  from  yours — from  the  lawyer,  from 
the  congressman,  from  the  editor,  not  to  mention  others, 
each,  with  a  strange  kind  of  melancholy  vanity,  claim 
ing  for  his  vocation  the  distinction  of  affording  the 
surest  inlets  to  the  conviction  that  man  is  no  better 
than  he  should  be.  All  of  which  testimony,  if  reliable, 
would,  by  mutual  corroboration,  justify  some  disturbance 
in  a  good  man's  mind.  But  no,  no  ;  it  is  a  mistake — all 
a  mistake." 

"  True,  sir,  very  true,"  assented  the  barber. 

"  Glad  to  hear  that,"  brightening  up. 

"  Not  so  fast,  sir,"  said  the  barber ;  "I  agree  with  you 
in  thinking  that  the  lawyer,  and  the  congressman,  and 
the  editor,  are  in  error,  but  only  in  so  far  as  each  claims 
peculiar  facilities  for  the  sort  of  knowledge  in  question  ; 
because,  you  see,  sir,  the  truth  is,  that  every  trade  or 
pursuit  which  brings  one  into  contact  with  the  facts, 
sir,  such  trade  or  pursuit  is  equally  an  avenue  to  those 
facts." 

"How  exactly  is  that  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  in  my  opinion- — and  for  the  last  twenty 
years  I  have,  at  odd  times,  turned  the  matter  over  some  in 


362  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

tnymind — he  who  comes  to  know  man,  will  not  remain 
in  ignorance  of  man.  I  think  I  am  not  rash  in  saying 
that;  ami,  sir?" 

"  Barber,  you  talk  like  an  oracle — obscurely,  barber, 
obscurely." 

"  Well,  sir,"  with  some  self-complacency,  "  the  barber 
has  always  been  held  an  oracle,  but  as  for  the  obscurity, 
that  I  don't  admit." 

"  But  pray,  now,  by  your  account,  what  precisely 
maybe  this  mysterious  knowledge  gained  in  your  trade? 
I  grant  you,  indeed,  as  before  hinted,  that  your  trade, 
imposing  on  you  the  necessity  of  functionally  tweaking 
the  noses  of  mankind,  is,  in  that  respect,  unfortu 
nate,  very  much  so;  nevertheless,  a  well-regulated 
imagination  should  be  proof  even  to  such  a  provo 
cation  to  improper  conceits.  But  what  I  want  to 
learn  from  you,  barber,  is,  how  does  the  mere  handling 
of  the  outside  of  men's  heads  lead  you  to  distrust  the 
inside  of  their  hearts  ? 

"What,  sir,  to  say  nothing  more,  can  one  be  forever 
dealing  in  macassar  oil,  hair  dyes,  cosmetics,  false  mous 
taches,  wigs,  and  toupees,  and  still  believe  that  men  are 
wholly  what  they  look  to  be  ?  What  think  you,  sir,  are  a 
thoughtful  barber's  reflections,  when,  behind  a  careful 
curtain,  he  shaves  the  thin,  dead  stubble  off  a  head,  and 
then  dismisses  it  to  the  world,  radiant  in  curling  au 
burn  ?  To  contrast  the  shamefaced  air  behind  the 
curtain,  the  fearful  looking  forward  to  being  possibly 
discovered  there  by  a  prying  acquaintance,  with  the 
cheerful  assurance  and  challenging  pride  with  which 


VERY      CHARMING.  363 

the  same  man  steps  forth  again,  a  gay  deception,  into 
the  street,  while  gome  honest,  shock-headed  fellow 
humbly  gives  him  the  wall.  Ah,  sir,  they  may  talk  of 
the  courage  of  truth,  but  my  trade  teaches  me  that 
truth  sometimes  is  sheepish.  Lies,  lies,  sir,  brave  lies 
are  the  lions !" 

"  You  twist  the  moral,  barber ;  you  sadly  twist  it. 
Look,  now;  take  it  this  way :  A  modest  man  thrust  out 
naked  into  the  street,  would  he  not  be  abashed  ?  Take 
him  in  and  clothe  him ;  would  not  his  confidence  be 
restored  ?  And  in  either  case,  is  any  reproach  involved  ? 
Now,  what  is  true  of  the  whole,  holds  proportionably 
true  of  the  part.  The  bald  head  is  a  nakedness  which 
the  wig  is  a  coat  to.  To  feel  uneasy  at  the  possibility 
of  the  exposure  of  one's  nakedness  at  top,  and  to  feel 
comforted  by  the  consciousness  of  having  it  clothed — 
these  feelings,  instead  of  being  dishonorable  to  a  bold 
man,  do,  in  fact,  but  attest  a  proper  respect  for  himself 
and  his  fellows.  And  as  for  the  deception,  you  may  as 
well  call  the  fine  roof  of  a  fine  chateau  a  deception, 
since,  like  a  fine  wig,  it  also  is  an  artificial  cover  to  the 
head,  and  equally,  in  the  common  eye,  decorates  the 
wearer. — I  have  confuted  you,  my  dear  barber ;  I  have 
confounded  you." 

"  Pardon,"  said  the  barber,  "but  I  do  not  see  that  you 
have.  His  coat  and  his  roof  no  man  pretends  to  palm 
off  as  a  part  of  himself,  but  the  bald  man  palms  off  hair, 
not  his,  for  his  own." 

"Not  his,  barber?  If  he  have  fairly  purchased  his 
hair,  the  law  will  protect  him  in  its  ownership,  even 


364  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

against  the  claims  of  the  head  on  which  it  grew.  But 
it  cannot  be  that  you  believe  what  you  say,  barber; 
you  talk  merely  for  the  humor.  I  could  not  think  so 
of  you  as  to  suppose  that  you  would  contentedly  deal 
in  the  impostures  you  condemn," 

"  Ah,  sir,  I  must  live." 

"  And  can't  you  do  that  without  sinning  against  your 
conscience,  as  you  believe  ?  Take  up  some  other  call 
ing." 

"  Wouldn't  mend  the  matter  much,  sir." 

"  Do  you  think,  then,  barber,  that,  in  a  certain  point, 
all  the  trades  and  callings  of  men  are  much  on  a  par? 
Fatal,  indeed,"  raising  his  hand,  "inexpressibly  dread 
ful,  the  trade  of  the  barber,  if  to  such  conclusions  it 
necessarily  leads.  Barber,"  eying  him  not  without 
emotion,  "  you  appear  to  me  not  so  much  a  misbeliever, 
as  a  man  misled.  Now,  let  me  set  you  on  the  right 
track  ;  let  me  restore  you  to  trust  in  human  nature,  and 
by  no  other  means  than  the  very  trade  that  has  brought 
you  to  suspect  it." 

"You  mean,  sir,  you  would  have  me  try  the  experi 
ment  of  taking  down  that  notification,"  again  pointing 
to  it  with  his  brush  ;  "  but,  dear  me,  while  I  sit  chatting 
here,  the  water  boils  over." 

With  which  words,  and  such  a  well-pleased,  sly,  snug, 
expression,  as  they  say  some  men  have  when  they  think 
their  little  stratagem  has  succeeded,  he  hurried  to  the 
copper  vessel,  and  soon  had  his  cup  foaming  up  with 
white  bubbles,  as  if  it  were  a  mug  of  new  ale. 

Meantime,  the  other  would  have  fain  gone  on  with 


VERY      CHARMING.  365 

the  discourse  ;  but  the  cunning  barber  lathered  him  with 
so  generous  a  brush,  so  piled  up  the  foam  on  him,  that 
his  face  looked  like  the  yeasty  crest  of  a  billow,  and  vain 
to  think  of  talking  under  it,  as  for  a  drowning  priest  in 
the  sea  to  exhort  his  fellow-sinners  on  a  raft.  Nothing 
would  do,  but  he  must  keep  his  mouth  shut.  Doubtless, 
the  interval  was  not,  in  a  meditative  way,  unimproved ; 
for,  upon  the  traces  of  the  operation  being  at  last  re 
moved,  the  cosmopolitan  rose,  and,  for  added  refresh 
ment,  washed  his  face  and  hands ;  and  having  generally 
readjusted  himself,  began,  at  last,  addressing  the  barber 
in  a  manner  different,  singularly  so,  from  his  previous 
one.  Hard  to  say  exactly  what  the  manner  was,  any 
more  than  to  hint  it  was  a  sort  of  magical ;  in  a  benign 
way,  not  wholly  unlike  the  manner,  fabled  or  otherwise, 
of  certain  creatures  in  nature,  which  have  the  power  of 
persuasive  fascination — the  power  of  holding  another 
creature  by  the  button  of  the  eye,  as  it  were,  despite 
the  serious  disinclination,  and,  indeed,  earnest  protest, 
of  the  victim.  With  this  manner  the  conclusion  of  the 
matter  was  not  out  of  keeping ;  for,  in  the  end,  all  argu 
ment  and  expostulation  proved  vain,  the  barber  being 
irresistibly  persuaded  to  agree  to  try,  for  the  remainder 
of  the  present  trip,  the  experiment  of  trusting  men,  as 
both  phrased  it.  True,  to  save  his  credit  as  a  free  agent, 
he  was  loud  in  averring  that  it  was  only  for  the  novelty 
of  the  thing  that  he  so  agreed,  and  he  required  the  other, 
as  before  volunteered,  to  go  security  to  him  against  any 
loss  that  might  ensue ;  but  still  the  fact  remained,  that 
he  engaged  to  trust  men,  a  thing  he  had  before  said  he 


366  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

would  not  do,  at  least  not  unreservedly.  Still  the  more 
to  save  his  credit,  he  now  insisted  upon  it.  as  a  last  point, 
that  the  agreement  should  be  put  in  black  and  white, 
especially  the  security  part.  The  other  made  no  demur ; 
pen,  ink,  and  paper  were  provided,  and  grave  as  any 
notary  the  cosmopolitan  sat  down,  but,  ere  taking  the 
pen,  glanced  up  at  the  notification,  and  said :  "  First 
down  with  that  sign,  barber — Timon's  sign,  there  ;  down 
with  it." 

This,  being  in  the  agreement,  was  done — though  a  little 
reluctantly — with  an  eye  to  the  future,  the  sign  being 
carefully  put  away  in  a  drawer. 

"  Now,  then,  for  the  writing,"  said  the  cosmopolitan, 
squaring  himself.  "  Ah,"  with  a  sigh,  "  I  shall  make  a 
poor  lawyer,  I  fear.  Ain't  used,  you  see,  barber,  to  a 
business  which,  ignoring  the  principle  of  honor,  holds  no 
nail  fast  till  clinched.  Strange,  barber,"  taking  up  the 
blank  paper,  "  that  such  flimsy  stuff  as  this  should  make 
such  strong  hawsers ;  vile  hawsers,  too.  Barber," 
starting  up,  "  I  won't  put  it  in  black  and  white.  It 
were  a  reflection  upon  our  joint  honor.  I  will  take  your 
word,  and  you  shall  take  mine." 

"  But  your  memory  may  be  none  of  the  best,  sir.  Well 
for  you,  on  your  side,  to  have  it  in  black  and  white,  just 
for  a  memorandum  like,  you  know." 

"  That,  indeed  !  Yes,  and  it  would  help  your  memory, 
too,  wouldn't  it,  barber?  Yours,  on  your  side,  being  a 
little  weak,  too,  I  dare  say.  Ah,  barber  !  how  ingenious 
we  human  beings  are ;  and  how  kindly  we  reciprocate 
each  other's  little  delicacies,  don't  we  ?  What  better 


VERY     CHARMING.  367 

proof,  now,  that  we  are  kind,  considerate  fellows,  with 
responsive  fellow-feelings — eh,  barber?  But  to  busi 
ness.  Let  me  see.  What's  your  name,  barber?" 

"William  Cream,  sir." 

Pondering  a  moment,  he  began  to  write ;  and,  after 
some  corrections,  leaned  back,  and  read  aloud  the  fol 
lowing  : 

"AGREEMENT 

"  Between 
"  FRANK  GOODMAN,  Philanthropist,  and  Citizen  of  the  World, 

"and 
"  WILLIAM  CREAM,  Barber  of  the  Mississippi  steamer,  Fidele. 

"  The  first  hereby  agrees  to  make  good  to  the  last  any  loss  that  may 
come  from  his  trusting  mankind,  in  the  way  of  his  vocation,  for  the  re 
sidue  of  the  present  trip ;  PROVIDED  that  William  Cream  keep  out  of 
sight,  for  the  given  term,  his  notification  of '  No  TRUST,'  and  by  no  other 
mode  convey  any,  the  least  hint  or  intimation,  tending  to  discourage 
men  from  soliciting  trust  from  him,  in  the  way  of  his  vocation,  for  the 
time  above  specified ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  he  do,  by  all  proper  and 
reasonable  words,  gestures,  manners,  and  looks,  evince  a  perfect  confi 
dence  in  all  men,  especially  strangers ;  otherwise,  this  agreement  to  be 
void. 

"  Done,  in  good  faith,  this  1st  day  of  April,  18 — ,  at  a  quarter  to 
twelve  o'clock,  p.  M.,  in  the  shop  of  said  William  Cream,  on  board  the 
said  boat,  Fidele." 

"There,  barber;  will  that  do?" 

"  That  will  do,"  said  the  barber,  "  only  now  put  down 
your  name." 

Both  signatures  being  affixed,  the  question  was  started 
by  the  barber,  who  should  have  custody  of  the  instru 
ment  ;  which  point,  however,  he  settled  for  himself,  by 
proposing  that  both  should  go  together  to  the  captain, 


368  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

and  give  the  document  into  his  hands — the  barber  hint 
ing  that  this  would  be  a  safe  proceeding,  because  the 
captain  was  necessarily  a  party  disinterested,  and,  what 
was  more,  could  not,  from  the  nature  of  the  present 
case,  make  anything  by  a  breach  of  trust.  All  of  which 
was  listened  to  with  some  surprise  and  concern. 

"Why,  barber,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  "this  don't 
show  the  right  spirit ;  for  me,  I  have  confidence  in  the 
captain  purely  because  he  is  a  man ;  but  he  shall  have 
nothing  to  do  with  our  affair ;  for  if  you  have  no  confi 
dence  in  me,  barber,  I  have  in  you.  There,  keep  the 
paper  yourself,"  handing  it  magnanimously. 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  barber,  "  and  now  nothing  re 
mains  but  for  me  to  receive  the  cash." 

Though  the  mention  of  that  word,  or  any  of  its  sin 
gularly  numerous  equivalents,  in  serious  neighborhood 
to  a  requisition  upon  one's  purse,  is  attended  with  a 
more  or  less  noteworthy  effect  upon  the  human  counte 
nance,  producing  in  many  an  abrupt  fall  of  it — in  others, 
a  writhing  and  screwing  up  of  the  features  to  a  point 
not  undistressing  to  behold,  in  some,  attended  with  a 
blank  pallor  and  fatal  consternation — yet  no  trace  of 
any  of  these  symptoms  was  visible  upon  the  countenance 
of  the  cosmopolitan,  notwithstanding  nothing  could  be 
more  sudden  and  unexpected  than  the  barber's  de 
mand. 

"  You  speak  of  cash,  barber ;  pray  in  what  connec 
tion?" 

"  In  a  nearer  one,  sir,"  answered  the  barber,  less 
blandly,  "  than  I  thought  the  man  with  the  sweet  voice 


VERY      CHARMING.  369 

stood,  who  wanted  me  to  trust  him  once  for  a  shave,  on 
the  score  of  being  a  sort  of  thirteenth  cousin." 

"  Indeed,  and  what  did  you  say  to  him  ?'' 

"I  said,  *  Thank  you,  sir,  but  I  don't  see  the  con 
nection.'  " 

"  How  could  you  so  unsweetly  answer  one  with  a 
sweet  voice?" 

"  Because,  I  recalled  what  the  son  of  Sirach  says  in 
the  True  Book :  « An  enemy  speaketh  sweetly  with  his 
lips  ;'  and  so  I  did  what  the  son  of  Sirach  advises  in  such 
cases :  '  I  believed  not  his  many  words.'  " 

"  What,  barber,  do  you  say  that  such  cynical  sort  of 
things  are  in  the  True  Book,  by  which,  of  course,  you 
mean  the  Bible  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  plenty  more  to  the  same  effect.  Read  the 
Book  of  Proverbs." 

"  That's  strange,  now,  barber  ;  for  I  never  happen  to 
have  met  with  those  passages  you  cite.  Before  I  go 
to  bed  this  night,  I'll  inspect  the  Bible  I  saw  on  the 
cabin-table,  to-day.  But  mind,  you  mustn't  quote  the 
True  Book  that  way  to  people  coming  in  here  ;  it  would 
be  impliedly  a  violation  of  the  contract.  But  you  don't 
know  how  glad  I  feel  that  you  have  for  one  while  signed 
off  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

"No,  sir;  not  unless  you  down  with  the  cash." 

"  Cash  again  !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Why,  in  this  paper  here,  you  engage,  sir,  to  insure 
me  against  a  certain  loss,  and — " 

"  Certain  ?-  Is  it  so  certain  you  are  going  to  lose  ?" 

"Why,  that  way  of  taking  the  word  may  not  be 

16* 


370  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

amiss,  but  I  didn't  mean  it  so.  I  meant  a  certain  loss ; 
you  understand,  a  CERTAIN  loss ;  that  is  to  say,  a  cer 
tain  loss.  Now  then,  sir,  what  use  your  mere  writing 
and  saying  you  will  insure  me,  unless  beforehand  you 
place  in  my  hands  a  money-pledge,  sufficient  to  that 
end?" 

"  I  see  ;  the  material  pledge." 

"  Yes,  and  I  will  put  it  low.;  say  fifty  dollars." 

"  Now  what  sort  of  a  beginning  is  this?  You,  barber, 
for  a  given  time  engage  to  trust  man,  to  put  confi 
dence  in  men,  and,  for  your  first  step,  make  a  demand 
implying  no  confidence  in  the  very  man  you  engage 
with.  But  fifty  dollars  is  nothing,  and  I  would  let  you 
have  it  cheerfully,  only  I  unfortunately  happen  to  have 
but  little  change  with  me  just  now." 

"  But  you  have  money  in  your  trunk,  though  ?" 

"  To  be  sure.  But  you  see — in  fact,  barber,  you 
must  be  consistent.  No,  I  won't  let  you  have  the  money 
now ;  I  won't  let  you  violate  the  inmost  spirit  of  our 
contract,  that  way.  So  good-night,  and  I  will  see  you 
again." 

"  Stay,  sir" — humming  and  hawing — "  you  have  for 
gotten  something." 

"  Handkerchief? — gloves?  No,  forgotten  nothing. 
Good-night." 

"  Stay,  sir — the — the  shaving." 

"  Ah,  I  did  forget  that.  But  now  that  it  strikes  me, 
I  shan't  pay  you  at  present.  Look  at  your  agreement ; 
you  must  trust.  Tut !  against  loss  you  hold  the  guar 
antee.  Good-night,  my  dear  barber." 


VERY      CHARMING.  371 

With  which  words  he  sauntered  off,  leaving  the  bar 
ber  in  a  maze,  staring  after. 

But  it  holding  true  in  fascination  as  in  natural  phil 
osophy,  that  nothing  can  act  where  it  is  not,  so  the 
barber  was  not  long  now  in  being  restored  to  his  self-pos 
session  and  senses ;  the  first  evidence  of  which  perhaps 
was,  that,  drawing  forth  his  notification  from  the  drawer, 
he  put  it  back  where  it  belonged ;  while,  as  for  the 
agreement,  that  he  tore  up  ;  which  he  felt  the  more  free 
to  do  from  the  impression  that  in  all  human  probability 
he  would  never  again  see  the  person  who  had  drawn  it. 
Whether  that  impression  proved  well-founded  or  not, 
does  not  appear.  But  in  after  days,  telling  the  night's 
adventure  to  his  friends,  the  worthy  barber  always 
spoke  of  his  queer  customer  as  the  man-charmer — as 
certain  East  Indians  are  called  snake-charmers — and  all 
his  friends  united  in  thinking  him  QUITE  AN  ORIGINAL. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

IN  WHICH  THE  LAST  THREE  WORDS  OP  THE  LAST  CHAPTER  ARE  MADE 
THE  TEXT  OF  DISCOURSE,  WHICH  WILL  BE  SURE  OF  RECEIVING  MORE 
OR  LESS  ATTENTION  FROM  THOSE  READERS  WHO  DO  NOT  SKIP  IT. 

una 

"  QUITE  AN  ORIGINAL  :"  A  phrase,  we  fancy,  rather 

oftener  used  by  the  young,  or  the  unlearned,  or  the  un- 
traveled,  than  by  the  old,  or  the  well-read,  or  the  man 
who  has  made  the  grand  tour.  Certainly,  the  sense  of 
originality  exists  at  its  highest  in  an  infant,  and  proba 
bly  at  its  lowest  in  him  who  has  completed  the  circle 
of  the  sciences. 

As  for  original  characters  in  fiction,  a  grateful  reader 
will,  on  meeting  with  one,  keep  the  anniversary  of  that 
day.  True,  we  sometimes  hear  of  an  author  who,  at 
one  creation,  produces  some  two  or  three  score  such 
characters;  it  may  be  possible.  But  they  can  hardly 
be  original  in  the  sense  that  Hamlet  is,  or  Don  Quixote, 
or  Milton's  Satan.  That  is  to  say,  they  are  not,  in  a 
thorough  sense,  original  at  all.  They  are  novel,  or 
singular,  or  striking,  or  captivating,  or  all  four  at 
once. 

More  likely,  they  are  what  are  called  odd  characters  ; 
but  for  that,  are  no  more  original,  than  what  is  called 


"QUITE      AN      ORIGINAL."  373 

an  odd  genius,  in  his  way,  is.  But,  if  original,  whence 
came  they?  Or  where  did  the  novelist  pick  them 
up? 

Where  does  any  novelist  pick  up  any  character  ? 
For  the  most  part,  in  town,  to  be  sure.  Every  great 
town  is  a  kind  of  man-show,  where  the  novelist  goes  for 
his  stock,  just  as  the  agriculturist  goes  to  the  cattle- 
show  for  his.  But  in  the  one  fair,  new  species  of  quad 
rupeds  are  hardly  more  rare,  than  in  the  other  are  new 
species  of  characters — that  is,  original  ones.  Their 
rarity  may  still  the  more  appear  from  this,  that,  while 
characters,  merely  singular,  imply  but  singular  forms 
so  to  speak,  original  ones,  truly  so,  imply  original 
instincts. 

In  short,  a  due  conception  of  what  is  to  be  held  for 
this  sort  of  personage  in  fiction  would  make  him  almost 
as  much  of  a  prodigy  there,  as  in  real  history  is  a  new 
law-giver,  a  revolutionizing  philosopher,  or  the  founder 
of  a  new  religion. 

In  nearly  all  the  original  characters,  loosely  account 
ed  such  in  works  of  invention,  there  is  discernible 
something  prevailingly  local,  or  of  the  age ;  which  cir 
cumstance,  of  itself,  would  seem  to  invalidate  the  claim, 
judged  by  the  principles  here  suggested. 

Furthermore,  if  we  consider,  what  is  popularly  held 
to  entitle  characters  in  fiction  to  being  deemed  original, 
is  but  something  personal — confined  to  itself.  The  char 
acter  sheds  not  its  characteristic  on  its  surroundings, 
whereas,  the  original  character,  essentially  such,  is  like 
a  revolving  Drummond  light,  raying  away  from  itself 


374  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

all  round  it — everything  is  lit  by  it,  everything  starts 
up  to  it  (mark  how  it  is  with  Hamlet),  so  that,  in  cer 
tain  minds,  there  follows  upon  the  adequate  conception 
of  such  a  character,  an  effect,  in  its  way,  akin  to  that 
which  in  Genesis  attends  upon  the  beginning  of 
things. 

For  much  the  same  reason  that  there  is  but  one 
planet  to  one  orbit,  so  can  there  be  but  one  such  origin 
al  character  to  one  work  of  invention.  Two  would 
conflict  to  chaos.  In  this  view,  to  say  that  there  are 
more  than  one  to  a  book,  is  good  presumption  there  is 
none  at  all.  But  for  new,  singular,  striking,  odd,  eccen 
tric,  and  all  sorts  of  entertaining  and  instructive  char 
acters,  a  good  fiction  may  be  full  of  them.  To  produce 
such  characters,  an  author,  beside  other  things,  must 
have  seen  much,  and  seen  through  much  :  to  produce 
but  one  original  character,  he  must  have  had  much 
luck. 

There  would  seem  but  one  point  in  common  between 
this  sort  of  phenomenon  in  fiction  and  all  other  sorts  : 
it  cannot  be  born  in  the  author's  imagination — it  being 
as  true  in  literature  as  in  zoology,  that  all  life  is  from 
the  egg. 

In  the  endeavor  to  show,  if  possible,  the  impropriety 
of  the  phrase,  Quite  an  Original,  as  applied  by  the  bar 
ber's  friends,  we  have,  at  unawares,  been  led  into  a 
dissertation  bordering  upon  the  prosy,  perhaps  upon  the 
smoky.  If  so,  the  best  use  the  smoke  can  be  turned 
to,  will  be,  by  retiring  under  cover  of  it,  in  good  trim 
as  may  be,  to  the  story. 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

THE    COSMOPOLITAN    INCREASES    IN    SERIOUSNESS. 

IN  the  middle  of  the  gentlemen's  cabin  burned  a  solar 
lamp,  swung  from  the  ceiling,  and  whose  shade  of 
ground  glass  was  all  round  fancifully  variegated,  in 
transparency,  with  the  image  of  a  horned  altar,  from 
which  flames  rose,  alternate  with  the  figure  of  a  robed 
man,  his  head  encircled  by  a  halo.  The  light  of  this 
lamp,  after  dazzlingly  striking  on  marble,  snow-white 
and  round — the  slab  of  a  centre-table  beneath — on  all 
sides  went  rippling  off  with  ever-diminishing  distinct 
ness,  till,  like  circles  from  a  stone  dropped  in  water,  the 
rays  died  dimly  away  in  the  furthest  nook  of  the 
place. 

Here  and  there,  true  to  their  place,  but  not  to  their 
function,  swung  other  lamps,  barren  planets,  which 
had  either  gone  out  from  exhaustion,  or  been  extin 
guished  by  such  occupants  of  berths  as  the  light  annoy 
ed,  or  who  wanted  to  sleep,  not  see. 

By  a  perverse  man,  in  a  berth  not  remote,  the  remain 
ing  lamp  would  have  been  extinguished  as  well,  had 
not  a  steward  forbade,  saying  that  the  commands  of  the 
captain  required  it  to  be  kept  burning  till  the  natural 


376  THE     CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

light  of  day  should  come  to  relieve  it.  This  steward,  who, 
like  many  in  his  vocation,  was  apt  to  be  a  little  free- 
spoken  at  times,  had  been  provoked  by  the  man's  perti 
nacity  to  remind  him,  not  only  of  the  sad  consequences 
which  might,  upon  occasion,  ensue  from  the  cabin  be 
ing  left  in  darkness,  but,  also,  of  the  circumstance  that, 
in  a  place  full  of  strangers,  to  show  one's  self  anxious  to 
produce  darkness  there,  such  an  anxiety  was,  to  say  the 
least,  not  becoming.  So  the  lamp — last  survivor  of 
many — burned  on,  inwardly  blessed  by  those  in  some 
berths,  and  inwardly  execrated  by  those  in  others. 

Keeping  his  lone  vigils  beneath  his  lone  lamp,  which 
lighted  his  book  on-  the  table,  sat  a  clean,  comely,  old 
man,  his  head  snowy  as  the  marble,  and  a  countenance 
like  that  which  imagination  ascribes  to  good  Simeon, 
when,  having  at  last  beheld  the  Master  of  Faith,  he  bless 
ed  him  and  departed  in  peace.  From  his  hale  look  of 
greenness  in  winter,  and  his  hands  ingrained  with  the 
tan,  less,  apparently,  of  the  present  summer,  than  of 
accumulated  ones  past,  the  old  man  seemed  a  well-to- 
do  farmer,  happily  dismissed,  after  a  thrifty  life  of  ac 
tivity,  from  the  fields  to  the  fireside — one  of  those  who, 
at  three-score-and-ten,  are  fresh-hearted  as  at  fifteen ; 
to  whom  seclusion  gives  a  boon  more  blessed  than 
knowledge,  and  at  last  sends  them  to  heaven  untainted 
by  the  world,  because  ignorant  of  it ;  just  as  a  country 
man  putting  up  at  a  London  inn,  and  never  stirring  out 
of  it  as  a  sight-seer,  will  leave  London  at  last  without 
once  being  lost  in  its  fog,  or  soiled  by  its  mud. 

Redolent  from  the  barber's  shop,  as  any  bridegroom 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  377 

tripping  to  the  bridal  chamber  might  come,  and  by  his 
look  of  cheeriness  seeming  to  dispense  a  sort  of  morning 
through  the  night,  in  came  the  cosmopolitan ;  but  mark 
ing  the  old  man,  and  how  he  was  occupied,  he  toned 
himself  down,  and  trod  softly,  and  took  a  seat  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  and  said  nothing.  Still,  there 
was  a  kind  of  waiting  expression  about  him. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  old  man,  after  looking  up  puzzled  at 
him  a  moment,  "  sir,"  said  he,  "  one  would  think  this 
was  a  coffee-house,  and  it  was  war-time,  and  I  had 
a  newspaper  here  with  great  news,  and  the  only  copy 
to  be  had,  you  sit  there  looking  at  me  so  eager." 

"  And  so  you  have  good  news  there,  sir — the  very 
best  of  good  news." 

"Too  good  to  be  true,"  here  came  from  one  of  the 
curtained  berths. 

"  Hark  I"  said  the  cosmopolitan.  "  Some  one  talks 
in  his  sleep." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and  you — you  seem  to  be 
talking  in  a  dream.  Why  speak  you,  sir,  of  news,  and 
all  that,  when  you  must  see  this  is  a  book  I  have  here — 
the  Bible,  not  a  newspaper?" 

"  I  know  that ;  and  when  you  are  through  with  it — 
but  not  a  moment  sooner — I  will  thank  you  for  it.     It 
belongs  to  the   boat,  I  believe — a  present  from  a  so 
ciety." 

"  Oh,  take  it,  take  it !" 

"^ay,  sir,  I  did  not  mean  to  touch  you  at  all.  I 
simply  stated  the  fact  in  explanation  of  my  waiting  here 
— nothing  more.  Read  on,  sir,  or  you  will  distress  me." 


378  THE      C  O  NFI  D  E  N  C  E  -M  A  N. 

This  courtesy  was  not  without  effect.  Removing  his 
spectacles,  and  saying  he  had  about  finished  his  chapter, 
the  old  man  kindly  presented  the  volume,  which  was 
received  with  thanks  equally  kind.  After  reading  for 
some  minutes,  until  his  expression  merged  from  atten- 
tiveness  into  seriousness,  and  from  that  into  a  kind  of 
pain,  the  cosmopolitan  slowly  laid  down  the  book,  and 
turning  to  the  old  man,  who  thus  far  had  been  watching 
him  with  benign  curiosity,  said :  "  Can  you,  my  aged 
friend,  resolve  me  a  doubt — >a  disturbing  doubt  ?" 

"  There  are  doubts,  sir,"  replied  the  old  man,  with  a 
changed  countenance,  "there  are  doubts,  sir,  which, 
if  man  have  them,  it  is  not  man  that  can  solve 
them." 

"  True  ;  but  look,  now,  what  my  doubt  is.  I  am  one 
who  thinks  well  of  man.  I  love  man.  I  have  confi 
dence  in  man.  But  what  was  told  me  not  a  half-hour 
since  ?  I  was  told  that  I  would  find  it  written—'  Be 
lieve  not  his  many  words — an  enemy  speaketh  sweetly 
with  his  lips' — and  also  I  was  told  that  I  would  find  a 
good  deal  more  to  the  same  effect,  and  all  in  this  book. 
I  could  not  think  it ;  and,  coming  here  to  look  for  my 
self,  what  do  I  read?  Not  only  just  what  was  quoted, 
but  also,  as  was  engaged,  more  to  the  same  purpose, 
such  as  this:  'With  much  communication  he  will 
tempt  thee ;  he  will  smile  upon  thee,  and  speak  thee  fair, 
and  say  What  wantest  thou  ?  If  thou  be  for  his  profit 
he  will  use  thee ;  he  will  make  thee  bear,  and  will  not 
be  sorry  for  it.  Observe  and  take  good  heed.  When 
thou  nearest  these  things,  awake  in  thy  sleep.' " 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  379 

"  Who's  that  describing  the  confidence-man  ?"  here 
came  from  the  berth  again. 

"Awake  in  his  sleep,  sure  enough,  ain't  he  ?"  said  the 
cosmopolitan,  again  looking  off  in  surprise.  "  Same 
voice  as  before,  ain't  it  ?  Strange  sort  of  dreamy  man, 
that.  Which  is  his  berth,  pray?" 

"  Never  mind  him,  sir,'7  said  the  old  man  anxiously, 
"  but  tell  me  truly,  did  you,  indeed,  read  from  the  book 
just  now?" 

"  I  did,"  with  changed  air,  uand  gall  and  wormwood 
it  is  to  me,  a  truster  in  man  ;  to  me,  a  philanthropist." 

"  Why,"  moved,  "  you  don't  mean  to  say,  that  what 
you  repeated  is  really  down  there  ?  Man  and  boy,  I 
have  read  the  good  book  this  seventy  years,  and  don't 
remember  seeing  anything  like  that.  Let  me  see  it," 
rising  earnestly,  and  going  round  to  him. 

"  There  it  is ;  and  there — and  there" — turning  over 
the  leaves,  and  pointing  to  the  sentences  one  by  one ; 
"  there — all  down  in  the  'Wisdom  of  Jesus,  the  Son  of 
Sirach.' " 

"Ah  !"  cried  the  old  man,  brightening  up,  "  now  I 
know.  Look,"  turning  the  leaves  forward  and  back,  till 
all  the  Old  Testament  lay  flat  on  one  side,  and  all  the 
New  Testament  flat  on  the  other,  while  in  his  fingers  he 
supported  vertically  the  portion  between,  "  look,  sir,  all 
this  to  the  right  is  certain  truth,  and  all  this  to  the  left 
is  certain  truth,  but  all  I  hold  in  my  hand  here  is 
apocrypha." 

"Apocrypha?" 

"Yes;   and  there's  the  word  in  black  and  white,' 


380  THE      CONFIDENCE  -MAN. 

pointing  to  it.  "And  what  says  the  word  ?  It  says  as 
much  as  '  not  warranted ;'  for  what  do  college  men  say 
of  anything  of  that  sort  ?  They  say  it  is  apocryphal. 
The  word  itself,  I've  heard  from  the  pulpit,  implies 
something  of  uncertain  credit.  So  if  your  disturbance 
be  raised  from  aught  in  this  apocrypha,"  again  taking 
up  the  pages,  "  in  that  case,  think  no  more  of  it,  for  it's 
apocrypha." 

"  What's  that  about  the  Apocalypse  ?"  here,  a  third 
time,  came  from  the  berth. 

"  He's  seeing  visions  now,  ain't  he?"  said  the  cosmo 
politan,  once  more  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  inter 
ruption.  "  But,  sir,"  resuming,  "  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
thankful  I  am  for  your  reminding  me  about  the  apocry 
pha  here.  For  the  moment,  its  being  such  escaped  me. 
Fact  is,  when  all  is  bound  up  together,  it's  sometimes 
confusing.  The  uncanonical  part  should  be  bound  dis 
tinct.  And,  now  that  I  think  of  it,  how  well  did  those 
learned  doctors  who  rejected  for  us  this  whole  book  of 
Sirach.  I  never  read  anything  so  calculated  to  destroy 
man's  confidence  in  man.  This  son  of  Sirach  even  says — 
I  saw  it  but  just  now  :  *  Take  heed  of  thy  friends ;'  not, 
observe,  thy  seeming  friends,  thy  hypocritical  friends, 
thy  false  friends,  but  thy  friends,  thy  real  friends — that 
is  to  say,  not  the  truest  friend  in  the  world  is  to  be  im 
plicitly  trusted.  Can  Rochefoucault  equal  that  ?  I 
should  not  wonder  if  his  view  of  human  nature,  like 
Machiavelli's,  was  taken  from  this  Son  of  Sirach.  And 
to  call  it  wisdom — the  Wisdom  of  the  Son  of  Sirach ! 
Wisdom,  indeed !  What  an  ugly  thing  wisdom  must 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  381 

be  !  Give  me  the  folly  that  dimples  the  cheek,  say  I, 
rather  than  the  wisdom  that  curdles  the  blood.  But 
no,  no  ;  it  ain't  wisdom  ;  it's  apocrypha,  as  you  say,  sir. 
For  how  can  that  be  trustworthy  that  teaches  dis 
trust?" 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,"  here  cried  the  same  voice  as 
before,  only  more  in  less  of  mockery,  "  if  you  two  don't 
know  enough  to  sleep,  don't  be  keeping  wiser  men 
awake.  And  if  you  want  to  know  what  wisdom  is,  go 
find  it  under  your  blankets." 

"  Wisdom  ?"  cried  another  voice  with  a  brogue ; 
"  arrah,  and  is't  wisdom  the  two  geese  are  gabbling 
about  all  this  while  ?  To  bed  with  ye,  ye  divils,  and 
don't  be  after  burning  your  fingers  with  the  likes  of 
wisdom. 

"  We  must  talk  lower,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  I  fear  we 
have  annoyed  these  good  people." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  if  wisdom  annoyed  any  one,"  said 
the  other;  "but  we  will  lower  our  voices,  as  you  say. 
To  resume :  taking  the  thing  as  I  did,  can  you  be  sur 
prised  at  my  uneasiness  in  reading  passages  so  charged 
with  the  spirit  of  distrust  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  not  surprised,"  said  the  old  man  ;  then 
added:  "from  what  you  say,  I  see  you  are  something 
of  my  way  of  thinking — you  think  that  to  distrust  the 
creature,  is  a  kind  of  distrusting  of  the  Creator.  Well, 
my  young  friend,  what  is  it  ?  This  is  rather  late  for  you 
to  be  about.  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?" 

These  questions  were  put  to  a  boy  in  the  fragment  of 
an  old  linen  coat,  bedraggled  and  yellow,  who,  coming 


382  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

in  from  the  deck  barefooted  on  the  soft  carpet,  had  been 
unheard.  All  pointed  and  fluttering,  the  rags  of  the 
little  fellow's  red-flannel  shirt,  mixed  with  those  of  his 
yellow  coat,  flamed  about  him  like  the  painted  flames  in 
the  robes  of  a  victim  in  auto-da-fe.  His  face,  too,  wore 
such  a  polish  of  seasoned  grime,  that  his  sloe-eyes 
sparkled  from  out  it  like  lustrous  sparks  in  fresh  coal. 
He  was  a  juvenile  peddler,  or  marchand,  as  the  polite 
French  might  have  called  him,  of  travelers'  conveni 
ences  ;  and,  having  no  allotted  sleeping-place,  had,  in 
his  wanderings  about  the  boat,  spied,  through  glass 
doors,  the  two  in  the  cabin ;  and,  late  though  it  was, 
thought  it  might  never  be  too  much  so  for  turning  a 
penny. 

Among  other  things,  he  carried  a  curious  affair — a 
miniature  mahogany  dopr,  hinged  to  its  frame,  and  suit 
ably  furnished  in  all  respects  but  one,  which  will  shortly 
appear.  This  little  door  he  now  meaningly  held  before 
the  old  man,  who,  after  staring  at  it  a  while,  said  :  "  Go 
thy  ways  with  thy  toys,  child." 

"  Now,  may  I  never  get  so  old  and  wise  as  that  comes 
to,"  laughed  the  boy  through  his  grime ;  and,  by  so 
doing,  disclosing  leopard-like  teeth,  like  those  of  Muril- 
lo's  wild  beggar-boy's. 

"  The  divils  are  laughing  now,  are  they  ?"  here  came 
the  brogue  from  the  berth.  "  What  do  the  divils  find  to 
laugh  about  in  wisdom,  begorrah  ?  To  bed  with  ye,  ye 
divils,  and  no  more  of  ye." 

"  You  see,  child,  you  have  disturbed  that  person," 
said  the  old  man  ;  "  you  mustn't  laugh  any  more." 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  383 

"Ah,  now,"  said  the  cosmopolitan,  "  don't,  pray,  say 
that;  don't  let  him  think  that  poor  Laughter  is  per 
secuted  for  a  fool  in  this  world." 

"Well,"  said  the  old  man  to  the  boy,  "you  must,  at 
any  rate,  speak  very  low." 

"  Yes,  that  wouldn't  be  amiss,  perhaps,"  said  the 
cosmopolitan;  "but,  my  fine  fellow,  you  were  about 
saying  something  to  my  aged  friend  here ;  what  was 
it?" 

"  Oh,"  with  a  lowered  voice,  coolly  opening  and  shut 
ting  his  little  door,  "only  this:  when  I  kept  a  toy- 
stand  at  the  fair  in  Cincinnati  last  month,  I  sold  more 
than  one  old  man  a  child's  rattle." 

"No  doubt  of  it,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  myself  often 
buy  such  things  for  my  little  grandchildren." 

"  But  these  old  men  I  talk  of  were  old  bachelors." 

The  old  man  stared  at  him  a  moment ;  then,  whisper 
ing  to  the  cosmopolitan  :  "  Strange  boy,  this ;  sort  of 
simple,  ain't  he  ?  Don't  know  much,  hey  ?" 

"  Not  much,"  said  the  boy,  "or  I  wouldn't  be  so 
ragged." 

"  Why,  child,  what  sharp  ears  you  have !"  exclaimed 
the  old  man. 

"  If  they  were  duller,  I  would  hear  less  ill  of  myself," 
said  the  boy. 

"  You  seem  pretty  wise,  my  lad,"  said  the  cosmo 
politan  ;  "  why  don't  you  sell  your  wisdom,  and  buy  a 
coat?" 

"  Faith,"  said  the  boy,  "  that's  what  I  did  to-day,  and 
this  is  the  coat  that  the  price  of  my  wisdom  bought. 


384  v         THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

But  won't  you  trade  ?  See,  now,  it  is  not  the  door  I 
want  to  sell ;  I  only  carry  the  door  round  for  a  speci 
men,  like.  Look  now,  sir,"  standing  the  thing  up  on  the 
table,  "  supposing  this  little  door  is  your  state-room 
door ;  well,"  opening  it,  "  you  go  in  for  the  night ; 
you  close  your  door  behind  you — thus.  Now,  is  all 
safe  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,  child,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Of  course  it  is,  my  fine  fellow,"  said  the  cosmopoli 
tan. 

"All  safe.  Well.  Now,  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  say,  a  soft-handed  gentleman  comes  softly  and 
tries  the  knob  here — thus  ;  in  creeps  my  soft-handed 
gentleman  ;  and  hey,  presto !  how  comes  on  the  soft 
cash  ?" 

"  I  see,  I  see,  child,"  said  the  old  man;  "  your  fine 
gentleman  is  a  fine  thief,  and  there's  no  lock  to  your 
little  door  to  keep  him  out ;"  with  which  words  he 
peered  at  it  more  closely  than  before. 

"Well,  now,"  again  showing  his  white  teeth,  "well, 
now,  some  of  you  old  folks  are  knowing  'uns,  sure 
enough  ;  but  now  comes  the  great  invention,"  produc 
ing  a  small  steel  contrivance,  very  simple  but  ingeni 
ous,  and  which,  being  clapped  on  the  inside  of  the  little 
door,  secured  it  as  with  a  bolt.  "  There  now,"  admir 
ingly  holding  it  off  at  arm's-length,  "there  now,  let 
that  soft-handed  gentleman  come  now  a'  softly  trying 
this  little  knob  here,  and  let  him  keep  a'  trying  till  he 
finds  his  head  as  soft  as  his  hand.  Buy  the  traveler's 
patent  lock,  sir,  only  twenty-five  cents." 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  385 

u  Dear  me,"  cried  the  old  man,  "  this  beats  print 
ing.  Yes,  child,  I  will  have  one,  and  use  it  this  very 
night.'1 

With  the  phlegm  of  an  old  banker  pouching  the 
change,  the  boy  now  turned  to  the  other :  "  Sell  you 
one,  sir  ?" 

"Excuse  me,  my  fine  fellow,  but  I  never  use  such 
blacksmiths'  things." 

"  Those  who  give  the  blacksmith  most  work  seldom 
do,"  said  the  boy,  tipping  him  a  wink  expressive  of  a 
degree  of  indefinite  knowingness,  not  uninteresting  to 
consider  in  one  of  his  years.  But  the  wink  was  not 
marked  by  the  old  man,  nor,  to  all  appearances,  by  him 
for  whom  it  was  intended. 

"Now  then,"  said  the  boy,  again  addressing  the  old 
man.  "With  your  traveler's  lock  on  your  door  to 
night,  you  will  think  yourself  all  safe,  won't  you?" 

"  I  think  I  will,  child." 

"  But  how  about  the  window?" 

"  Dear  me,  the  window,  child.  I  never  thought  of 
that.  I  must  see  to  that." 

"  Never  you  mind  about  the  window,"  said  the  boy, 
nor,  to  be  honor  bright,  about  the  traveler's  lock  either, 
(though  I  ain't  sorry  for  selling  one),  do  you  just  buy 
one  of  these  little  jokers,"  producing  a  number  of  sus 
pender-like  objects,  which  he  dangled  before  the  old 
man  ;  "  money-belts,  sir;  only  fifty  cents." 

"Money-belt?  never  heard  of  such  a  thing." 

"  A  sort  of  pocket-book,"  said  the  boy,  "  only  a  safer 
sort.  Very  good  for  travelers." 


386  THE     CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

"  Oh,  a  pocket-book.  Queer  looking  pocket-books 
though,  seems  to  me.  Ain't  they  rather  long  and  nar 
row  for  pocket-books?" 

"  They  go  round  the  waist,  sir,  inside,"  said  the  boy 
44  door  open  or  locked,  wide  awake  on  your  feet  or  fast 
asleep  in  your  chair,  impossible  to  be  robbed  with  a 
money-belt." 

"  I  see,  I  see.  It  would,  be  hard  to  rob  one's  money- 
belt.  And  I  was  told  to-day  the  Mississippi  is  a  bad 
river  for  pick-pockets.  How  much  are  they  ?" 

"  Only  fifty  cents,  sir." 

"I'll  take  one.     There!" 

"  Thank-ee.  And  now  there's  a  present  for  ye,"  with 
which,  drawing  from  his  breast  a  batch  of  little  papers, 
he  threw  one  before  the  old  man,  who,  looking  at  it,  read 
"  Counterfeit  Detector:" 

"  Very  good  thing,"  said  the  boy, <;  I  give  it  to  all  my 
customers  who  trade  seventy-five  cents'  worth ;  best 
present  can  be  made  them.  Sell  you  a  money-belt, 
sir?"  turning  to  the  cosmopolitan. 

"  Excuse  me,  my  fine  fellow,  but  I  never  use  that 
sort  of  thing  ;  my  money  I  carry  loose." 

"Loose  bait  ain't  bad,"  said  the  boy,  "look  a  lie  and 
find  the  truth  ;  don't  care  about  a  Counterfeit  Detector, 
do  ye  ?  or  is  the  wind  East,  d'ye  think?" 

"  Child,"  said  the  old  man  in  some  concern,  "  you 
mustn't  sit  up  any  longer,  it  affects  your  mind  ;  there,  go 
away,  go  to  bed." 

"  If  I  had  some  people's  brains  to  lie  on,  I  would," 
said  the  boy,  "but  planks  is  hard,  you  know." 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  387 

"  Go,  child — go,  go  !" 

"Yes,  child, — yes,  yes,"  said  the  boy,  with  which 
roguish  parody,  by  way  of  conge,  he  scraped  back  his 
hard  foot  on  the  woven  flowers  of  the  carpet,  much  as  a 
mischievous  steer  in  May  scrapes  back  his  horny  hoof 
in  the  pasture ;  and  then  with  a  flourish  of  his  hat — 
which,  like  the  rest  of  his  tatters,  was,  thanks  to  hard 
times,  a  belonging  beyond  his  years,  though  not  beyond 
his  experience,  being  a  grown  man's  cast-off  beaver — 
turned,  and  with  the  air  of  a  young  Caffre,  quitted  the 
place. 

"  That's  a  strange  boy,"  said  the  old  man,  looking 
after  him.  "  I  wonder  who's  his  mother  ;  and  whether 
she  knows  what  late  hours  he  keeps?" 

"  The  probability  is,"  observed  the  other,  "  that  his 
mother  does  not  know.  But  if  you  remember,  sir,  you 
were  saying  something,  when  the  boy  interrupted  you 
with  his  door." 

"  So  I  was. — Let  me  see,"  unmindful  of  his  purchases 
for  the  moment,  "  what,  now,  was  it?  What  was  that 
I  was  saying  ?  Do  you  remember  ?" 

"Not  perfectly,  sir ;  but,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  was 
something  like  this  :  you  hoped  you  did  not  distrust  the 
creature ;  for  that  would  imply  distrust  of  the  Creator." 

11  Yes,  that  was  something  like  it,"  mechanically  and 
unintelligently  letting  his  eye  fall  now  on  his  pur 
chases. 

"  Pray,  will  you  put  your  money  in  your  belt  to 
night?" 

"It's  best,  ain't  it?"  with  a  slight  start.     "Never 


SSS  THE      CONFIDENCE-MAN. 

too  late  to  be  cautious.  '  Beware  of  pick-pockets'  is 
all  over  the  boat." 

"  Yes,  and  it  must  have  been  the  Son  of  Sirach,  or 
some  other  morbid  cynic,  who  put  them  there.  But 
that's  not  to  the  purpose.  Since  you  are  minded  to  it, 
pray,  sir,  let  me  help  you  about  the  belt.  I  think  that, 
between  us,  we  can*  make  a  secure  thing  of  it." 

"  Oh  no,  no,  no  !"  said  the  old  man,  not  unperturbed, 
"  no,  no,  I  wouldn't  trouble  you  for  the  world,"  then, 
nervously  folding  up  the  belt,  "  and  I  won't  be  so  im 
polite  as  to  do  it  for  myself,  before  you,  either.  But, 
now  that  I  think  of  it,"  after  a  pause,  carefully  taking 
a  little  wad  from  a  remote  corner  of  his  vest  pocket, 
"  here  are  two  bills  they  gave  me  at  St.  Louis,  yester 
day.  No  doubt  they  are  all  right;  but  just  to  pass 
time,  I'll  compare  them  with  the  Detector  here.  Blessed 
boy  to  make  me  such  a  present.  Public  benefactor, 
that  little  boy!" 

Laying  the  Detector  square  before  him  on  the  table, 
he  then,  with  something  of  the  air  of  an  officer  bringing 
by  the  collar  a  brace  of  culprits  to  the  bar,  placed  the 
two  bills  opposite  the  Detector,  upon  which,  the  ex 
amination  began,  lasting  some  time,  prosecuted  with 
no  small  research  and  vigilance,  the  forefinger  of  the 
right  hand  proving  of  lawyer-like  efficacy  in  tracing  out 
and  pointing  the  evidence,  whichever  way  it  might  go. 

After  watching  him  a  while,  the  cosmopolitan  said  in 
a  formal  voice,  "  Well,  what  say  you,  Mr.  Foreman  ; 
guilty,  or  not  guilty? — Not  guilty,  ain't  it  t" 

"I  don't  know,  I  don't  know,"  returned  the  old  man, 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  3S9 

perplexed,  "  there's  so  many  marks  of  all  sorts  to  go  by, 
it  makes  it  a  kind  of  uncertain.  Here,  now,  is  this  bill," 
touching  one,  "  it  looks  to  be  a  three  dollar  bill  on 
the  Vicksburgh  Trust  and  Insurance  Banking  Company. 
Well,  the  Detector  says—" 

"  But  why,  in  this  case,  care  what  it  says  ?  Trust  and 
Insurance  !  What  more  would  you  have?" 

"No ;  but  the  Detector  says,  among  fifty  other  things, 
that,  if  a  good  bill,  it  must  have,  thickened  here  and 
there  into  the  substance  of  the  paper,  little  wavy  spots 
of  red ;  and  it  says  they  must  have  a  kind  of  silky  feel, 
being  made  by  the  lint  of  a  red  silk  handkerchief  stirred 
up  in  the  paper-maker's  vat — the  paper  being  made  to 
order  for  the  company." 

"  Well,  and  is—" 

"  Stay.  But  then  it  adds,  that  sign  is  not  always  to 
be  relied  on ;  for  some  good  bills  get  so  worn,  the  red 
marks  get  rubbed  out.  And  that's  the  case  with  my 
bill  here — see  how  old  it  is — or  else  it's  a  counterfeit,  or 
else — I  don't  see  right — or  else — dear,  dear  me — I  don't 
know  what  else  to  think." 

"  What  a  peck  of  trouble  that  Detector  makes  for  you 
now ;  believe  me,  the  bill  is  good  ;  don't  be  so  distrust 
ful.  Proves  what  I've  always  thought,  that  much  of 
the  want  of  confidence,  in  these  days,  is  owing  to  these 
Counterfeit  Detectors  you  see  on  every  desk  and  counter. 
Puts  people  up  to  suspecting  good  bills.  Throw  it 
away,  I  beg,  if  only  because  of  the  trouble  it  breeds 
you." 

"No  ;  it's  troublesome,  but  I  think  I'll  keep  it. — Stay, 


390  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

now,  here's  another  sign.  It  says  that,  if  the  bill  is  good,  ifc 
must  have  in  one  corner,  mixed  in  with  the  vignette,  the 
figure  of  a  goose,  very  small,  indeed,  all  but  microscopic; 
and,  for  added  precaution,  like  the  figure  of  Napoleon 
outlined  by  the  tree,  not  observable,  even  if  magnified, 
unless  the  attention  is  directed  to  it.  Now,  pore  over  it 
as  I  will,  I  can't  see  this  goose." 

"Can't  see  the  goose?  why,  I  can;  and  a  famous 
goose  it  is.  There"  (reaching  over  and  pointing  to 
a  spot  in  the  vignette). 

"  I  don't  see  it — dear  me — I  don't  see  the  goose.  Is 
it  a  real  goose  ?" 

"  A  perfect  goose;  beautiful  goose." 

"  Dear,  dear,  I  don't  see  it." 

"  Then  throw  that  Detector  away,  I  say  again  ;  it 
only  makes  you  purblind  ;  don't  you  see  what  a  wild- 
goose  chase  it  has  led  you?  The  bill  is  good.  Throw 
the  Detector  away." 

"No;  it  ain't  so  satisfactory  as  I  thought  for,  but 
I  must  examine  this  other  bill." 

"  As  you  please,  but  I  can't  in  conscience  assist  you 
any  more ;  pray,  then,  excuse  me." 

So,  while  the  old  man  with  much  painstakings  re 
sumed  his  work,  the  cosmopolitan,  to  allow  him  every 
facility,  resumed  his  reading.  At  length,  seeing  that  he 
had  given  up  his  undertaking  as  hopeless,  and  was  at 
leisure  again,  the  cosmopolitan  addressed  some  gravely 
interesting  remarks  to  him  about  the  book  before  him, 
and,  presently,  becoming  more  and  more  grave,  said,  as 
he  turned  the  large  volume  slowly  over  on  the  table, 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  391 

and  with  much  difficulty  traced  the  faded  remains  of  the 
gilt  inscription  giving  the  name  of  the  society  who  had 
presented  it  to  the  boat,  "  Ah,  sir,  though  every  one 
must  he  pleased  at  the  thought  of  the  presence  in  pub 
lic  places  of  such  a  book,  yet  there  is  something  that 
abates  the  satisfaction.  Look  at  this  volume ;  on  the 
outside,  battered  as  any  old  valise  in  the  baggage-room ; 
and  inside,  white  and  virgin  as  the  hearts  of  lilies  in 
bud." 

"  So  it  is.  so  it  is,"  said  the  old  man  sadly,  his  atten 
tion  for  the  first  directed  to  the  circumstance. 

"Nor  is  this  the  only  time,"  continued  the  other, 
"  that  I  have  observed  these  public  Bibles  in  boats  and 
hotels.  All  much  like  this — old  without,  and  new 
within.  True,  this  aptly  typifies  that  internal  freshness, 
the  best  mark  of  truth,  however  ancient;  but  then, 
it  speaks  not  so  well  as  could  be  wished  for  the  good 
book's  esteem  in  the  minds  of  the  traveling  public.  I 
may  err,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  if  more  confidence 
was  put  in  it  by  the  traveling  public,  it  would  hardly 
be  so." 

With  an  expression  very  unlike  that  with  which  he 
had  bent  over  the  Detector,  the  old  man  sat  meditating 
upon  his  companion's  remarks  a  while  ;  and,  at  last,  with 
a  rapt  look,  said  :  "  And  yet,  of  all  people,  the  traveling 
public  most  need  to  put  trust  in  that  guardianship  which 
is  made  known  in  this  book." 

"  True,  true,"  thoughtfully  assented  the  other. 

"And  one  would  think  they  would  wane  to,  and 
be  glad  to,"  continued  the  old  man  kindling;  "for,  in 


392  THE      CONFIDENCE- MAN. 

all  our  wanderings  through  this  vale,  how  pleasant,  not 
less  than  obligatory,  to  feel  that  we  need  start  at  no 
wild  alarms,  provide  for  no  wild  perils  ;  trusting  in  that 
Power  which  is  alike  able  and  willing  to  protect  us 
when  we  cannot  ourselves." 

His  manner  produced  something  answering  to  it  in 
the  cosmopolitan,  who,  leaning  over  towards  him,  said 
sadly :  "  Though  this  is  a  theme  on  which  travelers 
seldom  talk  to  each  other,  yet,  to  you,  sir,  I  will  say, 
that  I  share  something  of  your  sense  of  security.  I  have 
moved  much  about  the  world,  and  still  keep  at  it ;  nev 
ertheless,  though  in  this  land,  and  especially  in  these 
parts  of  it,  some  stories  are  told  about  steamboats  and 
railroads  fitted  to  make  one  a  little  apprehensive,  yet,  I 
may  say  that,  neither  by  land  nor  by  water,  am  I  ever 
seriously  disquieted,  however,  at  times,  transiently  un 
easy;  since,  with  you,  sir,  I  believe  in  a  Committee 
of  Safety,  holding  silent  sessions  over  all,  in  an  invisible 
patrol,  most  alert  when  we  soundest  sleep,  and  whose 
beat  lies  as  much  through  forests  as  towns,  along  rivers 
as  streets.  In  short,  I  never  forget  that  passage  of 
Scripture  which  says, '  Jehovah  shall  be  thy  confidence.' 
The  traveler  who  has  not  this  trust,  what  miserable 
misgivings  must  be  his ;  or,  what  vain,  short-sighted 
care  must  he  take  of  himself." 

"  Even  so,"  said  the  old  man,  lowly. 

"  There  is  a  chapter,"  continued  the  other,  again 
taking  the  book,  "  which,  as  not  amiss,  I  must  read  you. 
But  this  lamp,  solar-lamp  as  it  is,  begins  to  burn  dimly." 

"  So   it   does,  SQ   it   does,"  said   the   old   man  with 


INCREASE      IN      SERIOUSNESS.  393 

changed  air,  "  dear  me,  it  must  be  very  late.  I  must  to 
bed,  to  bed !  Let  me  see,"  rising  and  looking  wistfully  all 
round,  first  on  the  stools  and  settees,  and  then  on  the 
carpet,  "  let  me  see,  let  me  see ; — is  there  anything  I 
have  forgot, — forgot?  Something  I  a  sort  of  dimly  re 
member.  Something,  my  son — careful  man — told  me  at 
starting  this  morning,  this  very  morning.  Something 
about  seeing  to — something  before  I  got  into  my  berth. 
What  could  it  be?  Something  for  safety.  Oh,  my  poor 
old  memory !" 

"Let  me  give  a  little  guess,  sir.     Life-preserver?" 

"  So  it  was.  He  told  me  not  to  omit  seeing  I  had  a 
life-preserver  in  my  state-room ;  said  the  boat  supplied 
them,  too.  But  where  are  they?  I  don't  see  any. 
What  are  they  like?" 

"  They  are  something  like  this,  sir,  I  believe,"  lifting 
a  brown  stool  with  a  curved  tin  compartment  under 
neath  ;  "  yes,  this,  I  think,  is  a  life-preserver,  sir ;  and 
a  very  good  one,  I  should  say,  though  I  don't  pretend  to 
know  much  about  such  things,  never  using  them  my 
self." 

"  Why,  indeed,  now !  Who  would  have  thought  it  ? 
that  a  life-preserver?  That's  the  very  stool  I  was  sitting 
on,  ain't  it?"  •  4 

"  It  is.  And  that  shows  that  one's  life  is  looked  out 
for,  when  he  ain't  looking  out  for  it  himself.  In  fact, 
any  of  these  stools  here  will  float  you,  sir,  should  the 
boat  hit  a  snag,  and  go  down  in.  the  dark.  But,  since 
you  want  one  in  your  room,  pray  take  this  one,"  hand 
ing  it  to  him.  "  I  think  I  can  recommend  this  one ;  the 
17* 


394  THE      C  O  N  P  I  D  E  N  C  E  -  M  A  N  . 

tin  part,"  rapping  it  with  his  knuckles,  "  seems  so  per 
fect — sounds  so  very  hollow." 

"Sure  it's  quite  perfect,  though?"  Then,  anxiously 
putting  on  his  spectacles,  he  scrutinized  it  pretty 
closely — "  well  soldered  ?  quite  tight  ?" 

"  I  should  say  so,  sir ;  though,  indeed,  as  I  said,  I 
never  use  this  sort  of  thing,  myself.  Still,  I  think  that 
in  case  of  a  wreck,  barring  sharp-pointed  timbers,  you 
could  have  confidence  in  that  stool  for  a  special  provi 
dence." 

"  Then,  good-night,  good-night ;  and  Providence  have 
both  of  us  in  its  good  keeping." 

"  Be  sure  it  will,"  eying  the  old  man  with  sympathy, 
as  for  the  moment  he  stood,  money-belt  in  hand,  and 
life-preserver  under  arm,  "be  sure  it  will,  sir,  since 
in  Providence,  as  in  man,  you  and  I  equally  put  trust. 
But,  bless  me,  we  are  being  left  in  the  dark  here.  Pah ! 
what  a  smell,  too." 

"  Ah,  my  way  now,"  cried  the  old  man,  peering  be 
fore  him,  "  where  lies  my  way  to  my  state-room?" 

"  I  have  indifferent  eyes,  and  will  show  you  ;  but,  first, 
for  the  good  of  all  lungs,  let  me  extinguish  this  lamp." 

The  next  moment,  the  waning  light  expired,  and  with 
it  the  waning  flames  of  the  horned  altar,  and  the  waning 
halo  round  the  robed  man's  brow;  while  in  the  darkness 
which  ensued,  the  cosmopolitan  kindly  led  the  old  man 
away.  Something  further  may  follow  of  this  Masque 
rade. 


